Bound To You
by ruvy91
Summary: Pre- & Post-Reichenbach AU. Johnlock and Mystrade. Rated M for later smut. Please Read and Review. Cover image created by the lovely RBnC, without her this story wouldn't exist.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Sherlock could see the attraction that Lestrade and his brother had for each other. When he pointed it out to John while at a crime scene one day, the doctor of course dismissed it. That's when Mycroft showed up. His pretense was that he was checking up on Sherlock, but everyone minus Lestrade saw right through that. John watched as Lestrade strolled over to the tape and chatted with Mycroft.

Sherlock slinked up behind John and whispered in his ear "I told you".

John shivered as he felt Sherlock breath against his ear. John thoughts turned to mush when Sherlock was this close to him.

And as suddenly as he appeared, Sherlock strolled off to finish examining the body. John blinked and returned his attention to Mycroft and Lestrade. Now that he was looking, it was so obvious that they liked each other. John smirked and strolled over to the two.

"So what are you two chatting about?"

Lestrade blushed and stared intently at his shoes, while Mycroft smiled and said "Nothing, John. I was just asking the good Detective Inspector how Sherlock was behaving while at crime scenes. I have my answer now, so I shall bid you a good evening. John. Detective Inspector."

With a nod to each of them, Mycroft turned around on his heel, walked up and got into the back of black car that promptly drove off as soon as the door was closed.

John turned to Lestrade, and smiled.

"So, want to get a pint later?"

Lestrade was absently staring in the direction Mycroft had drove off.

"Sure if Sherlock's solved this by then."

At that moment Sherlock popped up behind John and started rattling off his deductions while checking his phone. Lestrade was barely able to write everything down. When Sherlock was done he turned and said "Come along John", and started walking off.

"So see you at the usual place, around 7?"

"Yeah, see you then."

John turned and ran after Sherlock, jumping into the taxi Sherlock had hailed right before it drove off.

Lestrade smirked as he walked over to his patrol car. Those two couldn't be more obvious about their mutual attraction than a bunch of clowns doing a flash mob in the middle of Trafalgar Square.

**xXx**

John was already sitting at the bar, his drink half gone, when Lestrade walked in. As he sat down, John signaled the bartender, and a pint was set down in front of the DI.

"So, you get the guy?"

"Yeah. He gave us a merry chase halfway across bloody London, but we got the guy."

John nodded and took a swig of his drink.

"So you fancy Mycroft."

Lestrade choked on his drink and coughed a bit.

"Wha-what?"

"Just something I noticed."

Lestrade bit his lip, deciding if he wanted to be honest or deny it. _Ah what the hell._ He let out a sigh.

"Yeah I fancy Mycroft, what of it?"

"Why haven't you asked him out?"

"I don't know. What if he doesn't like me like that?"

"I don't think you've got a problem there mate."

"Really?"

"If he truly wanted to see how Sherlock was behaving, he wouldn't need to come down to crime scenes. He comes to crime scenes to talk to you."

"Huh…" Lestrade played with his drink in his hand for a bit before taking another swig.

John nodded with a smile.

"So have you done anything about your attraction to Sherlock?"

This time it was John's turn to choke on his drink.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, c'mon John. I was honest with you about Mycroft. The least you can do is be honest with yourself."

Greg stared John down. At last John sighed in frustration.

"Fine. Fine. I fancy Sherlock. But that doesn't mean anything. He's not interested in me."

Greg raised his hands up. _Finally._

"Ah that's where you're wrong John."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion crossed John's face.

"You honestly don't see it?" Lestrade chuckled.

"See what? Jesus Lestrade, tell me what I'm missing."

"Trust me when I say Sherlock is definitely interested in you."

"Okay."

They spent the next several hours drinking and talking about football, the news, and the latest episode of Doctor Who.

**xXx**

**Thanks for reading. I hoped you liked it. Now you see there's this little box in the corner that lets me know your thoughts when you type into it. I don't care if you're just telling me you hate it. I just want to know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for sticking around for another chapter. The following chapters are probably going to be a bit short, but that's cause they reached a natural stopping point or they would've gone on forever. I was going to wait to post this chapter, but then I thought _eh what the heck._**

**Just so you guys know this is my first multi-chapter fic that I've felt ready for human consumption. So please be merciful. Frankie (my muse) is a fickle bastard that likes to toy with me when I should be sleeping/doing homework. So if there's some grammar errors or it rambles on let me know.**

**But I'm rambling. So with this I bid you adieu, and happy reading.**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Sherlock was lying on the couch, his hands steepled under his chin and eyes closed, when John stumbled into the flat after drinking with Lestrade. Sherlock peeked one eye open as John closed the door.

"Drinking with Lestrade again?"

"Yes" John huffed as he plopped into his chair. He sat there and studied Sherlock's slender form stretched out on the couch.

"Umm Sherlock…"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock turned his head and looked John straight in the eyes.

John blushed and muttered "Never mind."

John got up and walked towards his room, stopping at the doorway. "Goodnight, Sherlock." And disappeared up the stairs.

Sherlock crinkles his face in confusion. "Sweet dreams, John" he whispered as John left the room.

**xXx**

John's words and the alcohol made Greg feel brave. He took a chance and texted Mycroft.

**So I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner with me sometime. –GL**

When Mycroft felt his phone buzz he scowled, everyone he worked with knew he detested texting. However the scowl turned into a smile when he saw it was a text from Gregory.

**Dinner with you would be fabulous. –MH**

Greg had butterflies in his stomach when he read Mycroft's reply. _John was right._ He quickly tapped out his reply before he lost his nerve.

**How about Friday at 8, schedules permitting of course. –GL**

**I wouldn't miss it for the world. –MH**

**xXx**

Greg felt like he was floating on air the for the rest of the week, not even Sherlock's snarkiness could sour his mood.

Friday finally came around and thankfully Greg didn't have a case. He was finishing up some paperwork when he heard a knock at his office door.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Mycroft in his usual 3 piece suit complete with umbrella.

"Detective Inspector, ready for dinner?"

Greg smiled, and got up grabbing his jacket.

"Yes I am, and you can call me Greg, you know."

"I know."

"Good. So where do you want to go?"

"If you don't mind, I already made us reservations."

"Not at all. Lead the way."

Mycroft smiled, and walked back to the elevators that led out of New Scotland Yard.

**xXx**

The date had gone perfectly. Good food, good wine, great conversation. It was all that Greg could have hoped for. They walked up to Greg's door chatting about nothing in particular. Greg paused in front of his door and turned around to look at Mycroft.

"Well I guess this is goodnight."

"Yes I suppose," Mycroft said his head down, hands fidgeting with his ever present umbrella.

Greg smiled at Mycroft's nervousness. "Hey Mycroft."

Mycroft looked up and was surprised when Greg's lips met his own. He closed his eyes and reciprocated the kiss a bit hesitantly at first.

After a few moments, Greg pulled away from Mycroft.

"Goodnight Mycroft. We must do this again."

"I agree. Goodnight Gregory."

With that Greg unlocked his door and went inside as Mycroft walked back to the car. _A good night indeed._

**xXx**

**I warned you Frankie was fickle. But anyway...You see that box in the corner. It does this magic thing where if you type in what you think I'll see it. **

***gasp* Witchcraft! I know! But yeah please write a review and let me know what you think. Good, Bad, or Ugly. I don't care, just let me know.**

**Again I'm rambling, so Tah and see you next chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello again. You have stuck with us thus far! Congrats! Your prize: Another Chapter! And thank you to my beautiful reviewer Sendai.**

******Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it...Oh look I made a sandcastle.

**xXx**

Ever since John had had drinks with Lestrade, he had been acting…differently, and Sherlock couldn't figure out why. It had been a little over two weeks and the consulting detective was thoroughly stumped. If he wanted to know what was going on, he would have to ask the only person who knew about humans interactions better than him. Sherlock cringed at the thought of asking his brother for advice.

One night, Sherlock's need for more information overrode his pride. John was working late, so Sherlock went over to his brother's flat and burst in the front door without knocking.

"My, I need some advice."

Sherlock rounded the corner into the living room to find Mycroft pulling away from a very heavy snogging session with Lestrade. Sherlock smirked at the flustered look on both men's faces.

"You couldn't have called dear brother?"

"No, this was too important."

Mycroft let out an annoyed huff. He then looked over at Greg apologetically. Greg got the clue that Sherlock wouldn't talk with him in the room and that Sherlock wasn't going to leave until he could talk to his brother about what was bothering him.

"I'll be in the kitchen if anyone needs me."

Mycroft stared at Greg as he walked out. He turned his attention to Sherlock, who had taken a seat in a chair facing the couch.

"What is so important that you had to interrupt my evening?"

"John's been acting differently."

"How so?"

"He's been dressing like he's trying to impress a girl, but whenever I ask who she is, he says 'no one'. It's entirely frustrating."

"Okay…"

"And then when he thinks I'm not looking, I can feel him staring. But when I look at him he blushes and looks away."

"Honestly Sherlock, you have no idea what's going on?"

"Would I be here if I did?"

Mycroft inclined his head. "Sherlock all of what you've described leads to one conclusion."

"Oh and what's that?"

"John fancies you."

Sherlock scowled at Mycroft.

"I'm sure of it. I have it on good authority that John has said so."

"Then why hasn't he told me himself?"

"Because dear brother, he didn't want to ruin your friendship if you didn't reciprocate his feelings."

"But that's stupid!"

"You and I know that, but don't tell John that, he wouldn't take it well."

"So what should I do?"

"Show him you care."

Sherlock considered this for a moment, then got up and left.

Greg came back in to the living room and sat next to Mycroft on the couch.

"What was that about?"

"Sherlock and John are finally going to get over their stupid pride and admit they love each other."

"About time."

"Now my dear detective inspector, where were we before my little brother so rudely interrupted us?"

"I think about here." With that Greg crushed his lips to Mycroft's.

**xXx**

**I know I'm evil to leave you hanging there. But Frankie is a sadistic bastard. And I'm a slave to his moods. Don't worry Frankie might throw us a bone in the next chapter. I don't know, I can't control him. Let me know what you thought, cause hey that box is there for a reason.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi again. So life, love and all things fluffy, that is what I wish unto you with this chapter. **

**Oh did I mention some lemons...Enjoy.**

**********Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it...Look guys the sandcastle has become a palace...maybe a physical representation of a mind palace even...

**xXx**

John had decided that he was giving up on trying to catch Sherlock's eye. He trudged up the stairs to the flat, fully intent on making a cup of tea and turning in early. When he walked in the flat was quiet. John sighed, figuring Sherlock was out on a case.

John had just settled into his chair with a cup of tea, when Sherlock came sweeping into the flat. Sherlock's sudden appearance made John jump a little and sloshed a bit of his tea on to his jumper.

"Jesus Sherlock."

John had put his tea down and was getting up to change jumpers.

"John, I have something I want to tell you."

John looked up from wiping his front with a napkin. Sherlock was standing in front of him, staring down his eyes smoldering. John gulped.

"What?"

Sherlock's hand cupped John's cheek, running a thumb across his cheekbone. _What the-?_

John's thought was cut off when Sherlock's lips were on his own. His eyes went wide with shock. It took John's brain a few seconds to process what was going on, but once it caught up, the former army doctor threw himself into the kiss. He closed his eyes and tangled one of his hands in Sherlock's hair, the other wrapped around his waist, pulling their bodies flush against one another.

Sherlock gasped against John's mouth when his body was forcibly pulled towards the doctor. John soon took control of the kiss, swiping his tongue across Sherlock's bottom lip, trying to gain access to the inside of the genius' mouth. Sherlock was only happy to oblige, opening his mouth to let the doctor's tongue plunder the insides. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and pulling them even closer together.

After several minutes of intense snogging and a dominance battle with tongues for control of the kiss, John pulled away from Sherlock, gasping for air.

"Wow."

Sherlock smirked, and leaned his forehead against John, chest heaving as he tried to catch his own breath. They stood there for several moments still wrapped in each other's arms, gazing into the other's eyes as their breathing returned to normal.

The hand that was in Sherlock's hair started scratching at his scalp, and Sherlock closed his eyes in contentment, humming his happiness, similar to a cat purring when it's ears are scratched. John smiled and leaned his head up towards Sherlock's, his lips ghosting over the taller man's. Sherlock smiled and closed the non-existent gap, kissing John softly this time.

John leaned in to Sherlock, content with the slower pace. His hand still scratched at Sherlock's scalp while the other trailed up and down his spine. Sherlock shivered at the feeling of John's fingers through the back of his shirt, and nipped John's bottom lip. Sherlock's kiss started traveling along John's jawline and down his neck. John closed his eyes and leaned his head back, exposing his neck to Sherlock's lips, with a deep breath. When Sherlock reached the base of John's neck, he started to suck and nip at the skin until there was a bright red mark. Sherlock kissed the mark lightly and gave John a peck on the lips, grabbing John's hand that was ghosting over his spine.

The absence of Sherlock's lips on him made John's eyes snap open. As he was pulled towards the couch and sat down, John wondered what had brought this on. Sherlock leaned in to John, but John leaned his head back. Sherlock frowned and crinkled his forehead in confusion.

"Sherlock, what is this?"

"What is what?"

"This. You, me, us. What is it?"

"Oh. I thought this was clear?"

"What?" It was John's turn to look confused.

Sherlock smiled, and resisted the urge to call John an idiot. He knew that it would harm his chances with the former army doctor more than help.

"I want to be with you, John."

John's eyes softened and a smile creeped onto his face.

"Really" he whispered.

"Yes, John."

John's smile widened. He grabbed the back of Sherlock's neck and crashed their lips together. Sherlock smirked against John's mouth, and leaned towards John, forcing the other man to lie back on the couch.

John opened his mouth as Sherlock straddled him, allowing the taller man's tongue to dart in and explore every inch of the doctor's mouth.

Sherlock moaned into John's mouth, pressing his body closer to the shorter man. John chuckled as he felt Sherlock's arousal press into his thigh. "A bit excited, aren't we" John mumbled against the genius' lips. Sherlock growled as he moved to suck on John's neck. This prompted John to chuckle some more, his hands digging their way under Sherlock's shirt to caress his stomach.

Sherlock was gripping tightly to John's upper arm, while he ground his hips into John's. He moved his mouth to John's ear, licking, biting and kissing his way there. "Only for you my dear doctor" Sherlock growled into John's ear before biting and sucking on it.

John's gentle caress had turned to scratching on Sherlock's back. _Too much clothing, _John thought as he felt Sherlock trying to push his jumper up. John sat up abruptly, almost tossing Sherlock off, and ripped his jumper over his head and tossed it to the floor. John grabbed at Sherlock's shirt, and sucks on his neck while he fumbled with the buttons. Sherlock's fingernails are digging into John's back, when the last button is undone and John shoved the shirt off of Sherlock's arms.

Sherlock shrugged out of the shirt, allowing it to pool around his waist. Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's mouth, then started to move south with a series of hot open mouthed kisses. When he reached one of John's nipples, he glanced up at the doctor, smirking, before his mouth latches on to the hardened nub, sucking, licking and biting ever so gently.

"OH, god Sherlock" John moaned out, his hips thrust upward. Thankfully Sherlock had braced his knees into the couch, otherwise he would've been thrown off. Sherlock detached his lips from John, the hand he had been resting on the doctor's stomach trailed further down and cupped his hardening cock, rubbing gently.

"My dear doctor I do believe you have a condition" Sherlock purred. John's lust blown eyes narrowed as he looked down at Sherlock.

"A condition" Sherlock continued, "that I may be able to help alleviate." With that Sherlock lowered his lips to John's chest and started kissing down it, his hands undoing the other man's jeans. John lifted his hips as Sherlock slid his jeans and pants down just enough for his erection to spring free. He hissed as Sherlock placed a kiss to the base of his hard shaft. The genius licked up to the head, and placed a soft kiss to the tip before taking John into his mouth.

John gripped the couch cushions tightly as Sherlock picked up a steady rhythm, his breathing erratic because Sherlock definitely knows what he's doing. The way he hollows his cheeks as he pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head before diving back down John's shaft, humming slightly, the vibrations adding more pleasure to John's already overloaded senses. With the way things are going John knows he isn't going to last long.

"Sherlock…I-I'm, god, I'm going to-"John gasped out, before he could finish the thought, he came spilling down Sherlock's throat. Sherlock swallowed and cleaned off John's softening cock with his tongue. When he was done, Sherlock slide his mouth off of John with a wet pop. Sherlock grinned up at his panting, wrecked doctor.

"Enjoy ourselves, did we" Sherlock remarks. John shifted to a sitting position, the arm of the couch supporting his back, and grabs Sherlock by the trousers, pulling him closer, flicking the button undone with his thumb. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock lazily as he pulled the zipper down and dived his hand into his pants, pulling the genius's trapped erection out. Sherlock's lips quirk upward, and braced his hands next to John's sides on the arm of the couch. They continued their kisses as John stroked Sherlock's penis. It isn't long before Sherlock was frustrated with John's teasingly slow pace and was thrusting into his hand. John chuckled and quickened his movements, earning a pleased growl from Sherlock. A few moments later Sherlock came all over John's stomach, shouting his name.

Sherlock collapsed on top of John and nuzzled into his neck, humming his contentment. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and kissed his neck, smiling. They just lay there enjoying being close to the other. As their bodies rapidly cooled Sherlock curled into John and shivered.

Feeling him shiver and the chill creeping on himself, John grabbed an afghan off the back of the couch and covered the both of them with it. Sherlock placed a kiss to John's neck, and a yawn escaped from his mouth. John chuckled and closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness of the moment. Soon both men dozed off holding on to one another.

**xXx**

**So this goes to show that Frankie isn't all evil. So drop me a line, tell me if you loved it, hated it, found some holes. I can take criticism very well. Tah Tah. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello Duckies. I must say the reviews I've gotten on this story flatter me greatly. I initially had some difficulty writing this chapter but with some help from RBnC (who was the one to give me the initial spark for this story), I was able to get past my bought of writer's block. So with that enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

The next morning John woke up on the couch and someone was laying next to him tracing patterns on his chest. John opened his eyes to see a pair of snowy blue ones staring back at him. John smiled a soft smile, _That wasn't a dream_. He leaned over and gave Sherlock a light kiss.

"Morning."

Sherlock returned John's kiss and continued to draw patterns on his chest with a smile.

"Good morning my dear doctor."

John just layed there, gazing at Sherlock, soaking in the intimacy of the moment, never wanting it to end. However his stomach had other ideas, and started protesting loudly. John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek, threw the blanket off of himself and got up from the couch. As he walked to the kitchen, he looked back at a pouting Sherlock and chuckled. He busied himself making toast and tea for the two of them. John was spreading jam on his toast when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a pair of lips kiss the back of his neck. John leaned his head back on Sherlock's shoulder and smiled.

"You know you're going to have to move."

Sherlock hummed his discontent, but let go of John, opting to sit down at the table and watch John make breakfast shirtless. John finished what he was doing and set down a cup of tea and toast in front of Sherlock and sat across from him with his own breakfast. Sherlock was still studying John when Lestrade came strolling through the door.

Greg saw the two shirtless men at the table and smirked before dropping a folder in front of Sherlock. "I need your help on this case Sherlock".

Sherlock blinked and flipped open the folder, glancing at the various photos and reports.

"There's been five murders over the last two weeks. So far we've been able to keep this from the media, but I don't know how long it will stay quiet. There doesn't seem to be an obvious connection between victims except how they were murdered and the phrase he carves into them."

John pulled one of the photos out of the folder and examined the words carved into the victims' arm.

"Curam ubi Spectes"

"Take care where you look" Sherlock translated, flicking his eyes over to John with a smile before going back to examining the autopsy report of the third victim.

Lestrade cleared his throat, "Not quite sure what he means by that. So far, the killer hasn't left any DNA behind and there isn't a visible pattern to how he chooses his victims. If it wasn't for that phrase, we wouldn't have thought to connect them. So will you help?"

"I'd like to examine the bodies myself."

"They're at St. Barts with Molly. Does this mean you'll help."

"Of course. Now run along Lestrade, I'm sure Mycroft is getting lonely."

Lestrade glared at Sherlock "Call me if you find anything" and he left. John watched the exchange, a little confused, but he shrugged it off and cleaned up his dirty dishes.

"So I expect you'll be at St. Barts all day."

Sherlock didn't glance up from the report, "Hmmm. Yes I need to make my own observations."

John smiled, walked over to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around the genius, resting his chin on Sherlock's shoulder.

"I have to be at the surgery soon, so do you want to meet up here tonight for dinner?"

"That sounds fine" Sherlock answered distractedly.

John placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek and left to get ready for work.

**xXx**

**I know it's terribly short, but between the flu from hell, midterms, and leaving my writing notebook at my mom's, I haven't been able to write more. Plus this has a natural stopping point. Frankie has been in hiding since before I got sick, and I'm starting to get worried (I may have to employ a certain consulting detective to find him). If you didn't know already I put progress updates on my profile. I may just make Thursdays my update day, we'll see. Tah Tah darlings.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey all. First of I'd like to thank my lovely reviewers KL08, Sendai, and Johnlocked1895. Hearing back what you guys think is what fuels my desire to continue.**

**I've had a good week writing wise, despite forgetting my case notes at my mother's place. I have finally decided to make Thursdays my update day. *gasp* I know, you no longer have to wonder ****_will this be the day she updates?_**

**Well I won't keep you any longer; without further ado, chapter 6.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Sherlock had spent a frustrating day at St. Barts. The bodies hardly told him more than the autopsy reports could. _Molly's observations are getting better._ _Only way I can solve this is if the killer strikes again._ Sherlock started retreating into his mind palace as he trudged up the stairs into 221b. However he was met with a surprise when he opened the door. The flat was dim save for a few of candles. Sherlock looked in the kitchen and saw a table cleaned off and set for two.

"John" Sherlock called out while taking his coat off. John had just finished changing and came down from his room to find Sherlock looking contemplatively at the romantic dinner he had set up after work. Sherlock hears John enter the room and turned around.

"You didn't have to do this" Sherlock said with a smile. John returned the smile and pulled the plates of food he had been keeping warm in the oven out setting them on the table.

"I know, but I wanted to."

John sat down and gestured for Sherlock to join him. Sherlock sat down and they both started eating.

"How was your day, did you find anything more about the case?"

"No, and it's extremely frustrating. On the other hand Molly's observations are getting better, there was little that she overlooked."

"It's a byproduct of working with you. You make others want to see what you see and thus they pay more attention to their surroundings."

"I suppose..." Sherlock said contemplatively.

They continued to eating, chatting sparingly, soaking in the company of the other. When they were done Sherlock cleared their plates.

"Sherlock, you don't have to do that."

"I know but I want to" Sherlock said over his shoulder with a smile as he started to clean the dishes.

John got up walked over to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist. He stretched up and gave Sherlock a kiss on his cheek, then rested his chin on Sherlock's shoulder, watching the other man do the dishes.

Sherlock hummed his contentment; he loved how close John was. As he scrubbed the plates, Sherlock felt John kiss his neck a few times before he was sucking, licking and nipping the skin at the base of his neck.

Sherlock tried to concentrate on the task he rarely ever did, but John's mouth on his skin was too distracting. He set the plate and sponge in the sink, closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, giving John more access to his neck.

"John"

John hummed, but continued his actions. Sherlock took a deep breath in through his nose, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

"If you keep doing that, I will be forced to retaliate."

John smiled slyly and looked up at Sherlock his eyes smoldering.

"Maybe that was my plan."

Sherlock peeked one eye open to look at John. The corner of his mouth quirked upward. With a gracefully swift movement, Sherlock turned the faucet off and spun around to face John, gripping his hips firmly. John blinked and grabbed on to Sherlock's upper arms as he was walked backwards toward the couch. John had been so mesmerized by Sherlock, that when his calves hit the front of the couch, John fell down on to the couch taking Sherlock with him. Sherlock chuckled against John's chest, which started shaking from John failing to contain his own fit of giggles.

Sherlock shifted up John and gave him a soft kiss. John leaned up into the kiss, closing his eyes and breathing in Sherlock. Sherlock carded his hand through John's hair as John opened his mouth. Sherlock took the silent invitation and explored the other man's mouth with his tongue. They continued to kiss tenderly, their lips and tongues moving in sync, the taste of the other intoxicating. They were starting to run out of air when Sherlock's mobile buzzed in his trouser pocket.

Sherlock broke the kiss with a groan, as he dug his phone out of his pocket and answered it with a quick glance.

"Lestrade this better be good."

Greg noted the annoyance in Sherlock's tone.

"_Am I interrupting something?_"

Sherlock was gazing down at John, his free hand cupping John's face and running his thumb over the doctor's lips. He shivered as he felt John's fingers ghosting over his spine.

"Yes, now what do you want? Or did you just call to be an annoying arse?"

The DI ignored the insult.

_"Another body has turned up. I thought you'd be interested in looking at it for yourself, but if you're busy I'll just have Anderson pack it up and you can look at it at St Bart's."_

Sherlock's hand froze for a second, and then he was untangling himself from John and walking over to where he left his coat.

"Don't let that idiot touch the body until I get there."

Sherlock could hear Lestrade smirking through the phone.  
_"I'll text you the location."_ With that, Greg hung up. Sherlock slipped his phone back into his pocket and shrugged into his coat. He was putting on his scarf when he looked over to John sitting up on the couch and sighed.

John could see the conflicting wants in Sherlock's eyes. He smirked and stood up, strolling over to his own coat. He put it on, took the few steps to where the genius was standing, and gave him a peck on the lips.

"You didn't think you were going to leave without me"

Sherlock's phone pinged with the text from Lestrade. Sherlock smiled at John as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He opened the text and memorized the address with a glance, putting his phone away a few seconds later. He walked behind John as they left the flat. As soon as they were outside, Sherlock hailed a taxi, gave the driver the location of the crime scene, and they were off to look at the new body.

**xXx**

**Well don't just sit there, let me know what you think. Frankie may even have a reward for you all. I don't know what it'll be he's been oddly generous lately.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: A Double Update! WOW! Who knew Frankie was going to be this generous. Certainly not me, I don't control that muse. Well I won't keep you, I bet you're dying to read.**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Donovan gave Sherlock a dirty look as he approached but she held up the police tape to let him through.

"The freak's here" Donovan sneered to Lestrade as soon as Sherlock and John had ducked under the tape. Greg walked over giving Sally a reproving look, whereas John stopped in his tracks and glared at the woman. Sherlock ignored her and walked over to the body under the bridge, shooing Anderson away with a scowl.

"What?" Donovan asked John as she lowered the tape.

"You know what" John said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sally scoffed and rolled her eyes. When John continued to glare, she stalked over to where Anderson was scowling at Sherlock 15 feet away from the body.

"I've tried to get her to stop, but she won't listen" Greg said standing next to John looking at Sherlock scurrying around the dead body. John shot one last angry look Donovan's way before sighing.

"It bothers me. Sherlock may not show it, but I know it affects him every time she says it."

"Yeah, well at least he's not kicking her anymore."

"What?" John said, confused.

"He stopped after he met you, but every time Donovan would call Sherlock a freak he'd kick her. You'd be surprised how many times I had to talk her out of shooting him. I think she persists because she thinks she can get away with it."

John looked at Greg a bit incredulous for a few seconds then nodded his head, because let's be honest he's not surprised when it comes to Sherlock. They stand there in silence for a bit, waiting for Sherlock. Then Greg gets this evil smirk and looked over a John slyly.

"So what were you up to tonight?"

John coughed and started to blush. His eyes darted to Sherlock then his shoes.

"Oh nothing much; just hanging around the flat" he mumbled, the redness creeping up his cheeks.

"Uh-huh" Greg says, trying to contain his laughter as John's ears turned bright red. John glanced over Greg and narrowed his eyes.

"Well what were you doing tonight before the body was found?"

Greg shrugged, "I was at dinner."

"Oh, who with?" John asked arching an eyebrow.

"Mycroft" Greg replied smoothly.

"Really?" John said a bit surprised.

"Yes"

"And was this the first?"

"No"

"Oh so how many dates have you and Mycroft been on?"  
"Four over the last few weeks; honestly I'm surprised that you're surprised. I would've thought Sherlock told you by now."

"What Sherlock knows? You told him and not me, I thought we were friends Greg" John whined.

"I didn't tell him, he sort of found out on his own."

"Right" John said skeptically.

"Honest, the only reason he knows before you is that he walked in on me and Mycroft last night."

John's mouth shaped into an _oh_. A sly smile then split across John's face.

"So Sherlock walked in on you and Mycroft, huh?"

Greg rolled his eyes, and shook his head, "I swear, you're worse than a teenager. It was nothing like that….yet."

John's smile turned cheeky and he waggled his eyebrows.

Greg pinched his nose with an exasperated chuckle. He lowered his hand and gave John a knowing look.

"So, I must know did Sherlock follow through with My's advice last night or did he chicken out?"

John's smiled dropped a bit. "What advice?"

"That Sherlock should tell you how he feels."

John looked over to Sherlock with a reflective smile. _So I have Mycroft to thank_. "Yeah he did."

"And?"

"I'm not telling you the intimate details."

Greg lightly poked John's side, "So, things got intimate, eh?"

John rolled his eyes, "And you call me the teenager."

"It's part of my charm."

Sherlock chose that moment to pop up behind John. He placed a hand on the blonde man's lower back making John jump.

"This victim is the same as the rest. The killer is of small stature but quite strong. He's able to knock out his victims before they have a chance of fighting back, due to the shape and placement of the bruising he beats them with his bare hands. The thing that is so frustrating is that there's no pattern to how he chooses his victims. He's also smart enough not to leave any evidence behind" Sherlock said in a blur. John was a bit distracted because halfway through his deductions, Sherlock trailed a finger up and down John's spine, making him shiver involuntarily.

"Now if there's nothing else, I would like to get back to my evening" Sherlock directed to Greg, who shook his head. Sherlock bent his head down to John's ear and purred, "Come along John."

Sherlock turned with a dramatic flair of his coat and walked off the crime scene towards the main street.

John blinked and swallowed thickly. "Well I guess we'll talk some other time" John croaked out his voice a bit husky.

Greg smirked, and as John started walking after Sherlock he called "Have fun Johnny."

John shot a glare back at Lestrade and picked up his pace to catch up to Sherlock. He rounded the corner to the main street and crashed into the front of Sherlock. He would've fallen over if the consulting detective didn't grab on to his arms.

"You didn't think I was going to leave without you?" Sherlock said with a smile. As soon as he was sure John wouldn't fall, he grabbed his hand and hailed a cab. When one stopped in front of them, he pulled John in.

"221B Baker Street."

John pulled the door close, and that's when Sherlock's patience dissolved. As the cab pulled away, Sherlock pinned John against the door and kissed him aggressively. John was surprised but soon melted into the kiss gripping Sherlock's hips tightly. The rest of the cab ride is a blur of lips melded to one another, tongues intertwined, teeth scraping together, and wandering hands.

It took the cab driver more than a few tries to get their attention, and only captured it because both men's lungs were short on oxygen. Sherlock paid the man and dragged John out of the cab and into 221B. The door closed and once again Sherlock pinned John, this time kissing his neck. John had a hand in Sherlock's hair, and the other gripping his hip. He slammed his head back against the door to give Sherlock more access to his neck. His hands tightened as Sherlock sucked on his neck, adding to the bruises he accumulated the night before.

"Sh-Sherlock" John said thickly. Sherlock hummed his acknowledgement, continuing to suck and nip a new mark on John's neck. "Upstairs…..bed….now" John said between ragged breathes. He pulled back on Sherlock's head and backed him towards the stairs as quick as he could without falling. John pushed Sherlock roughly against the wall near the bottom of the stairs and kissed him deeply. John then turned around and ran up the stairs, tugging Sherlock along by his arm.

In the hallway to his bedroom Sherlock yanked on John's arm and pushed him against the wall. He shed his coat and scarf while kissing John, dropping it off to the side. He tugged at John's coat, sliding it off of him when the other man arched away from the wall and into Sherlock.

Continuing the kiss, John grabbed on to Sherlock's hips and pushed him towards the bedroom, bumping into the wall every now and then. Sherlock gropped around for the door knob behind him when his back hit the door.

The two men practically fell into the room when Sherlock finally found the handle and twisted the knob. They stumbled over to the bed fumbling at their clothes to get them off. By the time Sherlock pushed John onto the bed they had discarded their shirts and shoes and were working on getting their trousers off. Sherlock's dropped to the floor and he climbed atop John straddling his hips, bending down to kiss him.

John moaned into the kiss and pulled Sherlock flush against his body. His hands trailed down Sherlock's back to cup his bottom inside his underwear. John squeazed the left cheek as he pulled on Sherlock's lower lip with his teeth. Sherlock growled with desire and hooked his thumbs in John's boxers and dragged them down, his fingers scratching lightly along John's thighs.

Sherlock broke the kiss and reached over to his bedside table, pulling a bottle of lube out of the top drawer. Sherlock had only a coy smile from John as a warning to what happened next.

John hooked his legs around Sherlock's waist and flipped their positions, trapping Sherlock's arms by the wrists above his head with his hands. John bit and licked at Sherlock's neck and ground his lower body into Sherlock's. John grabbed the lube out of Sherlock's hand and yanked the genius' underwear down.

"You know it's been awhile since I've done this with a man" John whispered.

"I thought you weren't gay?" Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Everyone gets bored in the army" John replied squirting lube into his hand and slicking up his fingers.

"Ah" his reply turning into a gasp as John finger buried itself in his hole and curling, brushing lightly against his prostate. A few seconds later John added another finger, pumping in and out, scissoring slightly to stretch the genius. As John added a third finger, Sherlock's patience was growing thin.

"John" Sherlock growled. "I want you inside me now", more a command than a request. John withdrew his fingers and slicked up his throbbing cock, plenty willing to follow that command. John placed one hand on Sherlock's hip, his thumb rubbing circles, while the other guided his cock to Sherlock's hole, pausing for a moment before entering. Both men groaned, John stilled half in Sherlock, taking a few moments to adjust to all the sensations thrumming through his body.

Again Sherlock's impatience took over. He wrapped his legs around John and dug his heels into his lower back propelling John forward, while thrusting upwards.

"Impatient are we? Fine" John growled pulling out and thrusting back in, setting a moderate pace. Sherlock moaned his appreciation, hands gripping the sheets and rolling his hips to meet each of John's thrusts. John slid a hand down Sherlock's thigh, then grabbed his leaking cock. He started pumping his fist in time with his thrusts, which grew faster.

John marveled at how lovely Sherlock looked in the throes of passion.

"Christ, you're beautiful" John whispered out between ragged breaths his thrusting becoming more erratic.

Sherlock leaned up and kissed John as the doctor's orgasm ripped through him, swallowing the noises John made as he continued to thrust more slowly to draw out the pleasure. As the waves subsided, John grabbed Sherlock's cock and started stroking it, not wanting to leave his partner to take care of himself.

It didn't take long for Sherlock to tip over the edge, shouting out the doctor's name as he came all over his stomach and John's hand. John leaned down to give the genius a kiss, then rolled over and laid next to Sherlock.

Sherlock curled into John, shivering as his body rapidly cooled. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock, pulling him closer and pulled the blanket that had bunched at the end of the bed over them.

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's chest and buried his face into the crook of the blonde's neck humming. John hadn't heard the melody Sherlock was humming before, and deduced it was an original. John pressed a kiss to the top of Sherlock's head and laid back with his eyes closed, letting the warmth of the younger man and humming lull him to sleep.

**xXx**

**So, is it weird that I couldn't write that last bit without my roommate sitting next to me randomly saying inappropriate things?**

**But anywho, hope you liked it. I plan on trying to mix in more Mystrade over the next few chapters since it's been a bit Johnlock centric.**

**Let me know what you think.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: A big thanks to my reviewers for chapter 6 and 7: KL08, Sendai, Johnlocked1895, Miss R. Hood, and Slashify. This chapter was fairly easy to write although there were a few points where I felt like banging my head into a wall. But here we are, chapter 8, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Greg trudged wearily to the squad car once the body had been packed up and the evidence collected and cataloged. He pulled out his keys and something told him to look up. He looked over the roof of the car and past Donovan to see Mycroft leaning against his black car, tapping his ever present umbrella in the ground. A giant grin split across Greg's face.

"Hey boss, you alright?" Donovan asked.

"Yeah. Do you mind taking the car back to the Yard?" Greg said and tossed her the keys. Greg walked around the front of the car and strode determinedly towards Mycroft.

"Sure" Donovan replied a little confused, until she saw where he was headed. She got in the car and drove off, a small smile on her face, happy that her boss had someone, even if it was a Holmes.

"Hungry?" Mycroft asked.

Greg gave Mycroft a soft kiss, not caring who saw them. Mycroft returned the kiss, and opened the door to the car flourishing his other arm in an after you motion to Greg.

"Starving considering we didn't even finish our salads when I was called away" Greg said while climbing into the back of the car. Mycroft slid in after him and closed the door.

"So was Sherly able to shed any light on the case?"

Greg sighed sadly. "No, I hate to say it but I think we're going to have to wait until the killer slips up. But I don't want to talk about work."

"Alright."

Greg grabbed Mycroft's hand and intertwined their fingers, his thumb tracing circles across the back of the redhead's hand. He placed a kiss on Mycroft's cheek and laid his head on the taller man's shoulder. Mycroft smiled and placed a kiss on the graying brunette's head, leaning his cheek there while they rode in companionable silence.

When the car stopped Mycroft squeezed Greg's hand and opened the door, stepping out into the cold night air. Greg got out of the car, not surprised they were at his place. He took Mycroft's hand and walked into his flat.

Greg smiled when he saw the table set and the food they ordered at the restaurant sitting there looking and smelling delicious.

"You have got to tell me how you do that."

"I'm sorry but state secret Gregory dear."

"Ah, but I could arrest you for breaking into a detective's home Mycroft darling."

Mycroft smiled and gave Greg a kiss on the cheek.

"You could try."

Greg chuckled, "You can't fault a bloke for trying."

He grabbed Mycroft's hand and walked over to the table, stopping to hold out a chair for the redhead. He pushed in the chair as soon as the other man sat down and went over to sit down in his own seat. Mycroft smiled when Greg dug into his food like he hadn't eaten in days. Mycroft picked at his own food, opting to watch Greg and sip the wine he had brought.

"You know, any other person would think that creepy" Greg said between bites.

"Find what creepy Gregory dear?"

"You staring all the time Mycroft darling."

Mycroft leaned across the table and whispered against Greg's lips, "I can't help it if I find you mesmerizing" and kissed the other man. Suddenly Greg wasn't hungry. He leaned in to the kiss cupping the back of Mycroft's head. Mycroft broke the kiss and sat back down, staring at Greg, his pupils wide with desire.

"Still hungry?"

"Not exactly."

Greg got up and walked over to Mycroft's seat. He pulled the chair out and straddled Mycroft's lap. Greg wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck and kissed him slowly. Mycroft opened up to the kiss, enjoying the feel of Greg's unhurried exploration with his tongue.

As much fun as fast and dirty was, as some of their encounters were wont to be, Mycroft secretly enjoyed when they took their time. The gentle touches more personal than getting each other off so one or both of them could get back to work. He had no plans to speed things up anytime soon.

One of Greg's hands creeped up into Mycroft's hair and scratched at his scalp, while Mycroft lightly rubbed Greg's thighs. The slow languid kisses the remedy to the tiring day Greg had. Greg didn't want to stop but his lungs were straining for air. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Mycroft's. Looking into Mycroft's eyes he felt happy. Since Amanda had cheated on him, Greg hadn't thought he could feel this way again. Sure he had gone on a few dates after the divorce, but he hadn't felt that spark with any of those people. Being with Mycroft made him happier than he felt in a long time.

Greg wouldn't call it love. Not yet. After the drama with Amanda, Greg was guarding his heart. He was sure Mycroft would never do that to him, but the jaded cop in him was what kept him from even considering the feeling he felt as love.

Greg leaned in and kissed Mycroft softly. Several moments later Greg felt Mycroft's phone buzzing against his leg.

"Ignore it" Greg said against Mycroft's lips, trying to draw the other man's attention away from the obnoxious piece of technology.

Mycroft pulled his head away from Greg. "You know I can't do that Gregory" he said, pleading with his eyes for the other man to concede.

"I know" Greg said sighing. He slide back on Mycroft's lap and pulled the phone out of the redhead's pocket, handing it over.

Mycroft kissed Greg on the cheek as he took the phone, mouthing a silent thank you as he answered the phone.

"Holmes here."

Greg wasn't ready to break contact with Mycroft, on the off chance he didn't have to leave, so Greg stayed in Mycroft's lap his hands massaging the back of the politician's neck and head. Greg smiled when he saw Mycroft close his eyes and breathe deeply in through his nose, knowing his actions were appreciated.

After a few _yes sir_'s and an _I'll take care of it when I get there_, Mycroft hung up. He shot off a quick text to his driver and assistant before he opened his eyes to look at Greg. The understanding he saw in Greg's eyes made Mycroft wonder how he got so lucky and sad at the same time. Mycroft opened his mouth to apologize, but was stopped when he felt one of Greg's finger's against his lips.

"It's alright. When duty to Queen and Country calls, you answer. I wouldn't expect any less from the British Government" Greg said softly, his mouth quirking up as he added the last bit. Mycroft smiled at the joke and gave Greg a quick peck on the lips.

Greg sighed, and got up, still smiling. He stretched his arms over his head then held out a hand to Mycroft. Mycroft took it and let Greg pull him up. Hands intertwined, they slowly walked over to the door. Greg opened the door and when Mycroft turned to leave, he pulled the taller man into his arms kissed him passionately.

Mycroft groaned when Greg broke the kiss.

"Maybe we can finish that tomorrow" Greg said suggestively.

"About that…."Mycroft said hesitantly. Greg let out an exasperated sigh. He knew that tone meant Mycroft was going out of the country.

"Do you know how long?"

"As long as it takes."

"Well can I know where you're going, or will you have to kill me if I know?"

Mycroft chuckled and shook his head. "I'll be in Sudan. And before you ask, no I can't tell you why."

Greg pouted, "You don't let me have any fun."

Mycroft laughed some more because Greg's expression was too comical. He pulled Greg close to him and kissed him deeply. Mycroft broke the kiss when his black car pulled up to the curb.

"Something to remember me by Gregory dear" Mycroft gave Greg one last peck on the lips and strolled out to the car whistling and spinning his umbrella that he grabbed as he walked out the door. Mycroft took one last look at Greg before he climbed into the back of the car, chuckling when he saw to older man still standing in the doorway, a bit dazed.

"Something funny sir?" Mycroft's assistant A asked as he shut the door.

"People's reactions, my dear" Mycroft said with a smile. A returned the smile. Her boss was rarely in this good a mood when his help was needed in Sudan. A decided in that moment that her boss' relationship with Lestrade was something she was determined to help.

**xXx**

**Well I hope you liked it. If you did leave me a review telling how much and/or what you liked about it. Didn't like it? That's ok. Leave a review telling me what you didn't like about it. See you next Thursday darlings.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I can't believe you're still here. You haven't got bored of me yet?**

** As always I must thank my lovely reviewers: Miss R. Hood, Sendai and AzrielLolita. I love to hear what you liked about the story, I still get a giddy feeling every time I read a new review.**

**So, Frankie's found an intense need to get to later events of this story and has the creativity in overdrive. I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than this story (which is _a bit_ _not good _considering I have a ton of homework to do).**

**Side note I lost track of the days this week and yesterday thought I had missed my update deadline. Gave myself a mini panic attack cause I thought I had failed you all.**

**But without further ado, chapter 9.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it...The Woman came and stomped on my Sandcastle Mind Palace :'(

**xXx**

It was 4 in the morning when Greg was abruptly woken by his cell phone ringing.

"Hello?" He croaked out groggily when he answered the phone.

"Sorry to wake you boss, but there's another body."

Greg yawned and glared at his alarm clock. _Why couldn't killers wait until morning to murder their victims?_

"Pick me up in 15; I'll be ready by then."

Greg hung up his phone and shuffled about his room sleepily, getting dressed. He had some time to spare so he walked to the kitchen to make some coffee to go. As the machine brewed, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Sherlock.

**xXx**

Sherlock heard his mobile buzzing in the pocket of his pants on the floor. He carefully slipped from the bed, determined not to wake John.

As he answered his phone, Sherlock started to get dressed. Honestly, who would be calling him at 4:30 in the morning if not Lestrade with another body?

"Where is it this time?"

"_I don't know yet, I only got the call 10 minutes ago."_

"Well then what use is it to call me before you have all the information?" Sherlock said testily.

"_I don't have to let you see the body at the crime scene."_ Greg used the stern tone he reserved for his children and Sherlock. Sherlock grumbled his annoyance but bit back the insult that immediately came to mind.

"Fine; have Donovan swing by after she picks you up."

"_How….Never mind, we'll be there in 15, be ready to go."_ Greg hung up, Sherlock deducing, to finish making his coffee before Donovan got there.

Sherlock turned around and saw John propped up on an elbow, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hello" Sherlock said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on.

"Hey" John grunted groggily. "Another body?"

"Yes" Sherlock said over his shoulder and finished tying both his shoes. He turned around and half climbed over the bed, pushing John down when he started to get up to get dressed. Sherlock placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"You don't have to come with my dear doctor" Sherlock whispered hovering over John's lips, his right index finger trailing over the blonde's jawline. John yawned, too tired to argue, and relaxed back into the pillow, closing his eyes. Sherlock smiled, he could watch John sleep forever.

John brought his left hand up and captured Sherlock's hand holding it to his chest. With his eyes still closed, John leaned his head up the small distance to Sherlock's face and pressed his lips to Sherlock's. He dropped his head back down to the pillow and opened his eyes to look at Sherlock.

"Be careful" John lifted Sherlock's hand to his lips kissing the fingertips.

"Don't let Donovan get to you" He placed a kiss to his palm.

"And don't be afraid to hurry back" He leaned his head back up to Sherlock's, this kiss lingering to emphasize that John would be here when he returned.

"I'll be back before you know it" Sherlock said when they parted. He placed one last kiss to John's forehead and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Sherlock picked up his coat and scarf in the hallway, dusting them off before putting them on, walking out of the flat and into the police squad car, an irritated Donovan at the wheel.

Back in bed, John was already missing the extra warmth of Sherlock snuggled up against him. John reached over and pulled Sherlock's pillow into his arms, burying his face in it and inhaling deeply. It was a poor substitute for the real thing, but at least it smelled like Sherlock, which was enough for John to drift back to sleep.

**xXx**

Donovan had kept her mouth shut while driving; with how the case was going she decided to trust Lestrade's judgment involving the freak. Anderson scowled when he saw Sherlock stroll towards the door of the crime scene, Lestrade and Donovan close behind him.

"Did you have to bring him? I'm not sure it's even the same killer."

"I'll be the judge of that" Sherlock retorted and walked into the bloody living room.

Sherlock gingerly walked around the pool of blood originating from the dead blonde woman. He pulled on some latex gloves and squatted next to the body, his brain taking in all the information he observed. He pulled out his magnifying glass and examined the stab wounds and hands more carefully. Sherlock had put his magnifying glass away and was lowering her left hand when he caught sight of the flowing Latin text carved on the inside of her arm, obscured from the blood covering it.

Sherlock got up taking off his gloves and walked over to Lestrade.

"So is she connected to others?"

Sherlock nodded his eyes dancing. His face darkened when Anderson opened his idiotic mouth.

"How can she be connected, she was stabbed to death all the others were beaten."

Sherlock glared at Anderson. "Because the killer left his signature."

"Could be a copycat."

Even Sally knew Anderson was grasping at straws. "Can't be; the press doesn't have that detail."

Sherlock and Lestrade were surprised at Donovan's comment. Sherlock looked at her suspiciously before snapping his head back to Lestrade.

" We're looking for a short muscular man, has schizophrenia. Right handed, mid-twenties. You'll most likely find him in her files, seeing as he was her patient. He'll have scratches on his face and a slight limp."

Sherlock looked at the confused looks and groaned.

"You honestly don't see it. Oh how frustrating it must be to have your tiny minds. The reason why this murder is different than the others but still the same killer is so obvious. She threatened to turn him in. She's a therapist, he's her patient. She must have put his activities together over their last few sessions. For some reason the voices he hears tells him to kill these people but he's smart about it, cleans up any forensic evidence he leaves behind. He's in pain if he doesn't comply with what they tell him, part of the instructions they give him is to carve that phrase into the arms of his victims. When he was threatened with exposure, he pulled the knife on her; she tried to talk him down, reason with him to turn himself in, but the voices couldn't have that. He attacked she tried to fight back, managed to scratch him and injure his leg. But he's stronger and stabbed her 5 times, from what I could count. He could have left it at that, but no, the voices wouldn't leave it be, they had to leave their mark, just like the he made a mistake this time. In his panic he didn't clean under her fingernails. Also he was obviously limping because of those bloody footprints with the smearing in the left side of the trail. Most likely she dislocated his knee."

Through this speech Sherlock paced around, his arms flailing wildly at times to prove his point. His voice was giddy near the end. He suddenly turned and strolled out of the building, calling over his shoulder, "I would start with whoever was her last appointment."

Normally Sherlock would chase all over London to find the killer, but a very cuddly doctor was waiting in his bed, and he was sure that Lestrade wouldn't screw this up.

Sherlock hailed the first taxi he saw, and a short cab ride later he was climbing up the steps of 221B and silently slipping into his room.

Seeing John curled up around his pillow made Sherlock smile. He toed out of his shoes while slipping his coat, scarf and jacket off, and hanging them on the back of his door. Sherlock sat on the bed and gently worked his pillow from John's arms. When it was free, Sherlock put it behind his head and laid down pulling the slumbering blonde towards him. John stirred slightly, but didn't wake. He surprised Sherlock when he wrapped his arms around the genius and placed a kiss to his shoulder, all while asleep. Sherlock kissed John's forehead and rested his chin atop the blonde's head, eyes closed, humming the song John had recently inspired.

**xXx**

**Let me know what you think. What did you like? What did you hate? What did you have for breakfast?**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Oh woah, this story is getting more attention than I initially thought. I must thank my darling reviewers SoDamnSherlocked, KL08, Sendai, AzrielLolita, and CatoLaufeyson.**

**I have to give a huge shout out to RBnC. Without her there would be no Bound To You. She was the one to give me the initial spark for the story. She is the beautiful sounding board that helps when I'm stuck or unsure of a plot detail. She is the Moffat to my Gatiss. **

**Warning: this chapter has a bit of fluff.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

John woke up with his face buried in Sherlock's chest. _I could get used to this_, John thought as he untangled his arms from Sherlock and stretched. As soon as he felt the other man pull away Sherlock's eyes snapped open. He looked down at John and got lost in the sight of the doctor; his blonde hair sticking up all over the place, looking golden in the morning sun streaming through the window. The way the doctor's tanned muscles rippled as he stretched.

John finished stretching and saw that Sherlock was awake and staring at him.

"Morning" John said resting his hand on Sherlock's hip and leaning up to kiss him.

John pulled away and slid out of bed. He grabbed his boxers off the floor and slipped them on, walking to the bathroom.

Sherlock got up and went to the kitchen when he heard the shower start. While waiting for John he cleaned up their dinner from the night before.

10 minutes later he was done with the kitchen and had the kettle on for tea. He walked back to his room and got there as John walked out of the bathroom drying his hair with a towel, another slung low on his hips.

John bumped into Sherlock's chest.

"Well hey there, trying to take a peek while I was in the shower? You know you could've joined in." John said lowering the towel, a cheeky smile on his face. Sherlock arched an eyebrow. John chuckled, placed a kiss on the genius' cheek. He then left, going to his room to put some clothes on.

Sherlock kept his eyes on John until the blonde was out of sight, and then went back to changing his sheets and taking a shower of his own.

John padded down to the kitchen in sweats and a t-shirt, picking up his coat from the night before in the hallway and hanging it up. He turned the kettle off and made 2 cups of tea. He then busied himself with making breakfast.

Sherlock still wasn't out when he was done cooking. John placed the plates on the table, opting to get the morning paper before sitting down.

Sherlock walked out of his room in a t-shirt, pajama pants, and blue dressing gown as John walked back in the flat, newspaper tucked under his arm.

John shot Sherlock a smile and sat down at the table placing the paper next to his plate. Sherlock joined him and ate his food. John unfolded the newspaper next to him and read the front page story while eating.

"Looks like Greg was right, the media's connected the killings."

Sherlock hummed his acknowledgement, opting to retreat into his mind palace designing a new experiment.

"So did you finally figure out who was killing these people?"

It took Sherlock a few seconds to register John's question.

"Huh...ah yes it was a schizophrenic patient of the therapist" Sherlock said distractedly, wondering how many toes he could get from Molly.

John didn't follow, but was relieved that they knew who the killer was, even though it took another person dying for it to happen. He went back to reading the paper, recognizing the distracted look Sherlock had. They finished their breakfast and John cleared the plates.

It was a rare day where John didn't have to work and Sherlock wasn't dragging him all over London for a case. John decided to that he was going to type up the Baskerville case for his blog. He grabbed his laptop off the desk and sat on the couch; balancing the computer on the arm of the couch, he started to type.

Sherlock, deciding he would start his experiment later, and grabbed some blank sheet music and a pencil. He stretched out on the couch, his head in John's lap, and started writing down John's song, humming the melody as he went.

John looked down when he suddenly had a head in his lap and smiled. John leaned down and gave Sherlock a soft, brief kiss before returning his attention to his laptop. They spent the rest of their morning like this, content just to be near the other.

It was early afternoon when they heard knocking downstairs. John was moving to get up when they heard Mrs. Hudson answer the door. He relaxed back and continued to edit _Hounds of Baskerville_.

Sherlock stayed where he lay, hands steepled under his chin, having finished writing the music score an hour earlier. He was glad when Mrs. Hudson answered the door, being this close to John was soothing.

A few moments after Mrs. Hudson had answered the door, Lestrade quietly walked into the lounge.

Greg took in the sight of Sherlock and John on the couch and he smiled. He was happy for the couple and a small feeling of longing went through him, as well as a bit of jealousy because he missed Mycroft.

"Yes Lestrade?"

Sherlock's voice had made John jump a little. He hadn't notice Greg enter. He looked over to his friend and smiled.

"Oh. Hey Greg."

"Well?" Sherlock asked a bit annoyed. Greg was intruding on his quiet day with John and the longer he stayed the more likely John was to get up; and Sherlock was quite comfortable.

Greg rolled his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking.

"The killer's name was James Straton, like you said he suffers from schizophrenia and was a patient of his last victim. We found him at home trying to wash the blood out of his shirt. He didn't put up a fight when we arrested him."

"Where you able to find out why he did it" John asked.

"He said that the victims looked at him the wrong way and _they_ didn't like that" Greg stated, using air quotes to emphasize they.

"Is that all" Sherlock asked, his tone letting on to his boredom.

"I suppose. Just thought I'd come by to thank you, but no I'll just leave you be. I suppose I won't need your help for another month" Greg said, irritaded.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh stop your whining Lestrade. Just because Mycroft's out of town doesn't mean you need to get your knickers in a twist. It's not my fault he's too busy stuffing his face with cake to-"

"Sherlock!" John yelled. John had watched Greg grow increasingly irritated at Sherlock's words and the former army doctor had to stop his lover before he went too far.

Sherlock looked up at John with an expression that said he didn't know why John was upset.

"Oh you very well know what you did" John muttered under his breath, looking down at Sherlock pointedly.

Sherlock expression changed to one a 5 year old would have when a parent was forcing them to apologize.

"Yes or you can forget about anything happening for a long while" John whispered threateningly.

Sherlock saw the determination in John's look and knew exactly what the doctor meant. He let out an exasperated sigh and looked over to Greg.

"I'm sorry you're insecure in your relationship with my brother Lestrade."

Greg let out an annoyed huff; it wasn't the apology he had expected but it was an apology nonetheless. John scowled down at Sherlock and abruptly got up, letting the genuis' head drop on couch. Sherlock rolled over on the couch, his back to the two men, muttering darkly under his breath.

John shook his head and Greg sported a smug smirk.

"Greg would you like a cup of tea?" John asked walking to the kitchen.

"Yeah, alright" Greg said, following John.

Greg leaned against a counter as John went about make tea for the both of them. When he was done he handed Greg a mug and leaned against his own counter, facing his friend.

"I'm sorry about Sherlock, I swear he has a screw loose" John apologized.

"It's alright, I'm used to Sherlock's insults." Greg sipped on his tea before looking over at John.

"So you two looked cozy" Greg said, a wistful smile on his face.

John blushed and sipped his tea. He saw the wistful smile on Greg's face.

"So, is Mycroft out of town?"

"Yeah he left last night."

"That must be tough."

"It can be….frustrating, but I knew what I was getting myself into."

John nodded, "Well if you ever need to talk."

"I know, thanks."

The two men finished drinking their tea in silence. Greg sighed and put his empty cup on the counter.

"As much as I would like to stay, I have a mountain of paperwork back at the office. Thanks for the cuppa."

"No problem; like I said if you need to talk, let me know." John walked Greg out then went back to the lounge. Sherlock was still on the couch his back to John.

"Oh quit sulking Sherlock, you were out of line with that comment and you know it."

Sherlock sighed. He didn't want to completely ruin the day he had with John. Sherlock got up and walked over to John, wrapping his arms around the blonde's waist.

"I didn't mean to make you angry, how can I ever make it up to you?" Sherlock looked down at John, the sincerity in his eyes.

Try as he might, John couldn't help but smile. He stretched his head up and kissed Sherlock.

"I'm not angry, just annoyed. Greg's our friend, and you don't say things like that to friends."

John kissed Sherlock again and sat down on the couch. He placed his laptop in his lap and went back to editing _Hounds of Baskerville_. Sherlock picked up his violin, took a few moments to tune it, then started playing. John looked up from his laptop smiling, recognizing the melody from when Sherlock had hummed it earlier. They spent the rest of the day quietly, basking in the domesticity. The lazy kisses they exchanged in bed that night would be something John would always cherish.

**xXx**

**I'm sorry was that too fluffy? The feels too much to handle? Let me know. I will take incoherent gushing. It's what keeps me writing.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Wow, I love the feedback I got for the last chapter. I have to thank all my lovely reviewers: RBnC, darkrose45, AzrielLolita, Miss R. Hood, Sendai, KL08, onib, and SeverusDmitri18. Hearing your feedback is what keeps writing. **

**I have to warn you all, this chapter is equally fluffy as the last one, but with a twist. It's with our favorite Detective Inspector and Politician. _  
_**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

It had been a week since Mycroft had left for Sudan. Even though he knew he'd have to fend off questions from Greg, he didn't want to wait any longer before seeing the DI.

After stopping in at the office to finish reports on the situation in Sudan and giving A the next few days off, Mycroft was walking into New Scotland Yard.

He had checked the cameras in the Yard before heading over, and knew Greg was in his office. He stepped off the elevator and walked casually to Greg's office.

Sergeant Donovan had just stepped out of Greg's office when Mycroft got to the door. Her eyes went wide at his appearance and opened her mouth to speak. Mycroft put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh. I want to surprise him" he whispered. She nodded and went to her desk, looking back once, concern flashing across her face.

Mycroft silently slipped into Greg's office, closing the door behind him. Greg was bent over some paperwork and hadn't heard Mycroft enter. He must've had a lot of paperwork to do because Mycroft could hear The Clash softly filtering through the computer speakers.

Mycroft stood there a few moments watching Greg, amused by the determined look on his face as he read a report, his head bobbing along with the music.

"Well aren't you the picture of professionalism" Mycroft said teasingly, finally letting his presence be known.

Greg whipped his head up at the sound of Mycroft's voice, the smile he had fell when he took in the politician's appearance.

Before him stood Mycroft his left arm in a sling under his suit jacket; he was leaning on his umbrella but stretching his right side like he had a couple of bruised ribs. What worried Greg the most was the shallow cuts on Mycroft's face and bruise on his left cheek.

Greg jumped up from his desk and nearly ran over to Mycroft. He lightly cupped Mycroft's face with both hands.

"My what happened" Greg asked, the worry evident in his eyes and voice.

"Car accident on the way to the airport" Mycroft said. Greg was a little suspicious because the bruise on his cheek looked more like one you would get from a right hook than a car accident.

His suspicions must have shown because Mycroft pulled him into a gentle hug with his good arm.

"I'm alright, I swear" Mycroft said reassuringly into his ear before kissing Greg on the cheek. Greg looped his arms around Mycroft's neck and leaned back to look at him.

"It scared me a bit, last time we talked you didn't say anything about a car accident."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"I know, but please tell me if you get injured the next time you're out of the country."

Mycroft smiled, he wasn't used to having someone worry about him.

"I will make sure to tell you."

"Good." Greg leaned in and kissed Mycroft softly. Mycroft eagerly returned the kiss. He had missed Greg while he'd been gone. Mycroft's hand slid down Greg's back and squeezed his ass.

Greg gasped and Mycroft took the opportunity to slip his tongue into the man's mouth. Greg moaned softly and pressed their bodies together. Mycroft grunted and cringed a bit as pain shot through his side.

Greg broke the kiss.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mea-"

"It's ok. I know you didn't do it on purpose" Mycroft interrupted.

"I know but I'm still sorry."

"It's quite alright Gregory dear. Now, I'm famished, would you be so kind as to join me for dinner" Mycroft asked, his voice taking on a teasingly affectionate tone.

"I would be delighted Mycroft darling" Greg bantered back. He walked back to his desk and turned his computer off. He grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair and his wallet out of the top drawer. Greg slid his wallet into his pocket and shrugged into his jacket. He walked back around the desk and smiled when Mycroft offered his right arm. He looped his arm through Mycroft's and opened the door. As they left his office, Greg grabbed the umbrella out of Mycroft's hand to keep it from dangling between them awkwardly.

"I'm leaving for the night" Greg told Donovan as they passed by her desk.

"Alright, have a good night" she called back.

They rode the elevator down and exited the building to find one of Mycroft's black cars waiting for them. Greg opened the back door for Mycroft and slid in after the politician. During the ride, Greg kept glancing at Mycroft's left arm.

Mycroft sighed before speaking. "It's a hairline fracture on my radius. I also have two bruised ribs on my right side."

Greg smiled sheepishly. Mycroft shook his head with a smile. He leaned over and kissed Greg. Greg returned the kiss, he had really missed Mycroft in the week the redhead was gone.

They broke apart when the car stopped moving. Both men climbed out and walked into the restaurant. The host stood at attention and immediately walked over to them when he caught sight of Mycroft.

"Ah, Mister Holmes good to see you again," He shook Mycroft's good hand and motioned his other arm to the dining area. "Your table is ready. If you and your companion would follow me."

Greg smirked as he followed Mycroft and the host to the table. He watched as waiters throughout the dining room adjusted their posture and a few quickly scurried away from setting up a secluded table. They were seated at the table and menus placed in front of them.

Greg perused the menu, looking over the top at Mycroft, the smirk still on his face.

"Yes Gregory" Mycroft asked without looking up.

Greg was about to answer when a waiter came up to the table with a bottle of wine and continued to stand there waiting to take their orders. Mycroft shot the waiter a slightly annoyed look, the young man's reaction causing Greg to stifle a chuckle.

As soon as the waiter left, Mycroft looked over to Greg. "What is it that you find so amusing Gregory?"

Greg smiled and took a sip of wine. "The terror your mere presence causes in the wait staff."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't notice it because you're always treated with the utmost respect. The minute you walked into the restaurant the whole staff stood at attention and started moving with purpose. I wouldn't be surprised if there are a few people hyperventilating into paper bags in the kitchen."

"Interesting" Mycroft said thoughtfully.

Greg chuckled and leaned across the table, giving Mycroft a quick peck on the lips.

"I find it delightfully entertaining."

"Well at least I'm not dull."

Greg chuckled as he sat back down. Mycroft leaned back in his seat with his wine glass, studying Greg as he sipped the yellow-gold liquid. He reached out with one of his legs and stroked Greg's leg with his foot.

Mycroft smiled coyly when Greg arched an eyebrow at him. With a slight nod Greg trapped Mycroft's foot between his knees. As the politician lightly pulled his leg to try and free it, Greg drank some of his own wine, a smug smile on his face.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Greg when he couldn't free his foot.

"It's what you get" Greg said, his smile widening.

Mycroft tried wiggling his foot back and forth, but Greg's grip was iron tight. Mycroft took to pouting when he couldn't get his foot free. The puckering of the redhead's lower lip threw Greg into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Greg only stopped when their food arrived, releasing Mycroft's foot as his plate was set in front of him.

Greg had started eating, and happened to look over at Mycroft to see him scowling at his plate. A soft smile took place on Greg's face as he inched his seat and food closer to Mycroft. He pulled the taller man's plate in front him and cut off a bite sized piece of chicken, swiping it through sauce.

Mycroft watched him with a confused look. Suddenly Greg presented the bite of food in front of Mycroft's mouth and the redhead's confused looked turned into a smile as he ate the food off of the fork.

Greg continued to feed Mycroft, stopping every now and then to eat his own food and receive soft kisses.

When they were done eating, Mycroft intertwined their fingers and kissed Greg. They were interrupted by their waiter clearing his throat. Greg chuckled when the man started to shake slightly at the dark look Mycroft shot him.

"Would either of you like dessert?"there was a tremble in his voice.

Mycroft looked at Greg, who shook his head.

"No" Mycroft said producing a credit card and handing it to the waiter.

"Very well."

Mycroft grabbed Greg's hand again, his thumb circling on the back of Greg's hand.

"The case you had before I left, you never told me if Sherlock solved it or not."

"Oh right, the man was a schizophrenic that killed when the voices told him people were looking at him the wrong way. Sherlock didn't figure it out until the man killed his therapist."

"Anything else interesting happen while I was gone."

"John and Sherlock are together."

Mycroft smiled, "Really?"

"Yes, they were quite cozy the few times I stopped by in the past week."

"Good, Sherlock was getting quite annoying."

"Oh Sherlock's still annoying, but John has quite the influence over him. He got Sherlock to apologize after he was his own brand of insulting."

"No" Mycroft said a bit unbelieving.

Greg nodded, "Mind you it was a very Sherlock apology, but an apology nonetheless."

At that moment the waiter returned with Mycroft's credit card and a receipt that needed his signature. Mycroft signed the paper and grabbed his card, standing up, pausing shortly for Greg to follow.

Greg got up and looped his arm through Mycroft's. They walked out of the restaurant together and stepped into one of Mycroft's black cars that was waiting for them outside.

"Sherlock apologized. I don't think he's done that since he was a child, except this last christmas."

Greg nodded his head smiling. Greg leaned over to Mycroft and kissed the taller man, resting his free hand on his knee. The kiss was soft and sweet everything Mycroft loved, and it was over too soon. Greg pulled away as the car stopped. Mycroft let out a whine that made Greg smile. Greg pressed another kiss to Mycroft's lips.

"You know you could always come inside with me" he said climbing out of the car.

Mycroft quickly followed, and they walked into Greg's flat. Once inside Mycroft moved to the couch, taking off his jacket and shoes, settling comfortably into the cushions. Greg followed the redhead's lead, turning the tv on as he sat. Once settled Greg pulled Mycroft into his arms gently, placing a kiss on his lover's cheek.

Mycroft shifted a bit against Greg's chest, settling into a position that was more comfortable for his broken arm and bruised ribs. He turned his head and captured Greg's lips with his own. They savoured the soft languid kisses until the need for air was too great.

Mycroft shifted down and rested his head against Greg's chest. They watched tv in a comfortable silence, exchanging brief kisses and commenting on whatever program they were watching.

It was nearing midnight, when Greg felt Mycroft's breathing slow down and become deeper. The politician had been yawning, fighting the pull of sleep for last half hour. He placed a kiss to the redhead's cheek.

"C'mon Mycroft, lets get to bed" Greg whispered in his ear patting the taller man on the leg.

"hmm no, I'm wake" Mycroft mumbled.

Greg smiled. "I know, but lets go to bed."

"No, I'm comfortable here" Mycroft mumbled, nuzzling his face into Greg's neck.

"My, c'mon you'll thank me in the morning" Greg said gently pushing Mycroft into an upright position.

Mycroft groaned, at the loss of heat but sat up and swung his legs off the couch. He sat there yawning. Greg got up and held his hand out to Mycroft and pulled him up.

When Greg let go of him, Mycroft swayed a little, causing the shorter man to quickly slip under Mycroft's good arm and hold him up by his waist.

"You're awake, huh?" Greg said teasingly.

"Shut it" Mycroft grunted, leaning against Greg and burying his face in the DI's neck.

Greg chuckled and walked to the bedroom, guiding the sleepy politician. He was rewarded with Mycroft placing sleepy kisses on his neck.

Once there Greg sat Mycroft on the bed. He slipped the sling off Mycroft's neck, then proceeded to strip the other man down to his undershirt and pants. Greg pulled back the covers and laid his sleepy lover down, placing the blanket up around his chin.

Mycroft shifted a bit under the covers, and quickly drifted asleep. Greg changed into a pair of pajama pants and an old Pink Floyd shirt, and climbed in the bed. Sensing extra warmth, Mycroft backed up against Greg, who wrapped his arm around the sleeping man's waist.

Closing his eyes and listening to Mycroft's deep even breaths, Greg soon drifted into a peaceful sleep.

**xXx**

**Alright, you know the drill, I want to know what you thought; even if they're wild conspiracy theories about what happened to Mycroft in Sudan. Whoever guess' right, will get a special prize. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey everyone, welcome back. I loved everyone's theories on how Mycroft was injured in Sudan. Some of you were close or had elements that were true, but nobody got it mostly right. I guess that will be a secret between me, Mycroft, A, and Frankie.**

**I'd like to take this time to thank all of my lovely reviewers: AzrielLolita, capirkl, Miss R. Hood, DamonandElena4ever, Sendai, and onib. Your support means alot to me and keeps me writing when I'm stuck.**

**Now on with chapter 12.**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Two weeks after Mycroft got back from Sudan, he and Greg were on his couch having a quiet night in, watching a movie. It had been Greg's turn to pick the movie and he had brought over Die Another Day.

Greg was stretched out on the couch, his head in Mycroft's lap, enjoying the redhead petting his hair without realizing it.

Bond had just lasered a hole in the ice and dived in. Mycroft scoffed.

"What" Greg asked.

"They're blatantly ignoring the laws of nature. If you or I swam through that water we'd die of hypothermia."

"I know, but that's Bond films."

"I wouldn't know, I never really watched them."

Greg made a noise somewhere between a screech and a gasp. Mycroft looked down at him, his eyebrow arched.

"You've never watched a Bond film? Ever?" Greg said in disbelief.

Mycroft shook his head.

"I didn't really watch movies when I was younger; Preferred books."

"Then please tell me you've read the novels."

Mycroft chuckled. "Of course."

"Good, but we seriously need to start your Bond film education."

"So long as you're the one teaching me."

Mycroft leaned down and kissed Greg. They went back to watching the movie.

When Miranda Frost revealed herself to be a double agent it reminded Mycroft of something.

"Gregory, I have a favor to ask of you."

Greg paused the movie and sat up next to Mycroft, giving the redhead his full attention. He knew it must be important for his lover to be asking for help.

"I would normally take care of this on my own but as you know, my ability to do things normally is a bit hindered at the moment" Mycroft paused and looked at Greg. Seeing no pity or judgment from the other man, he continued. "There is a client of mine that needs assistance and you are the only person I trust to accomplish the job."

"Alright My, what can you tell me about this case" Greg's face grew serious. Mycroft smiled. No matter how silly his lover could be, he always knew when to put it aside.

Mycroft leaned forward and picked up a folder marked classified from a pile of them on the coffee table. Greg had gotten used to seeing them all over Mycroft's flat and didn't look in any of them, no matter how curious his mind got. Mycroft handed the folder over to Greg. Greg looked at him, asking one last time for permission with his eyes, before opening the folder and leafing through the contents.

"My client's name is Rosamund Pike, for the past few days she's been getting packages in the mail and inside the packages have been various body parts."

"Hold up, did you say Rosamund Pike, as in that Rosamund Pike" Greg said a bit incredously, pointing at the tv where the movie was paused.

"Yes" Mycroft answered a bit hesitantly. He saw the look in Greg's eyes; the war between fanboying and being serious about the matter.

"Alright, lets hear it."  
"How do you know a Bond girl? Is she the only Bond girl you know? Have you met Pierce Brosnan? Have you met Daniel Craig? Wait, wait. Have you met Sean Connery? How many movie stars _have_ you met?" Greg was practically bouncing on the couch, each question was quickly followed by another. When Greg stopped talking, Mycroft paused for a bit, waiting to see if Greg had another question.

"I wouldn't know about other Bond girls, seeing how I haven't seen any of the movies, but I met Rosa at Oxford. If you want to know how many movie stars I've met, that's a very long list. Before you ask I've mostly met them through work."

Greg's curiosity was saited for now, although he'd pester Mycroft about that list later. Greg nodded and went back to reading a report in the folder.

"Each body part has been tested and the DNA doesn't match, so we know that this person has removed them from a different person each time. I'm not optimistic about the people these body parts are from being alive since there hasn't been any people turning up in A&E with missing fingers,ears, or toes."

Greg flipped through the photos. "Have you been able to trace the packages?"

"No, there's no return address and they were mailed from different post boxes throughout London."

Greg shut the folder and set it on the table. "I'd like to interview Miss Pike as soon as possible."

Mycroft smiled. "Is that the Detective or the fanboy talking?"

Greg sighed but smiled at My's question. "The detective, although the fanboy would like to meet her as well."

Mycroft chuckled softly. "We're supposed to go to her place for afternoon tea tomorrow."

"Alright" Greg kissed Mycroft then snuggled into his side and played the rest of the movie.

**xXx**

**I know it's shorter than what I usually post, but the next bit is long and I didn't want to overload you.**

**So tell me what you think. I want to know.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I felt bad about the last chapter being so short, to where I decided to give you this one as well. I'm going to be rushing to get the next chapter done on time but, you know what you guys are worth it.**

**Just a warning, even though Rosamund Pike is a real person this is a fictional portrayal of her. I needed someone famous and in the process she became Mycroft's best friend that he met in uni.**

**So enough of my insecure rambling, I'll let you get to reading.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Greg pulled up the drive of the address Mycroft had given him. He parked and got out of his car smoothing the front of his blazer. He walked to the door and rung the doorbell.

A few moments later and there stood Rosamund and Greg was frozen in awe.

"Are you Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

Greg cleared his throat. "Yes Ms. Pike, you can call me Greg."

"And you can call me Rosa. Why don't you come on in, we've been waiting for you."

Greg nodded his head and stepped inside. Rosa closed the door and led Greg to the lounge where Mycroft was sitting cup of tea in hand.

"Look what I found outside My. Do you want him cause I already have one and I don't need another" Rosa said playfully.

Mycroft put his cup down on the coffee table and got up, smiling. "Hmm I think I'll take him."

Greg looked between the two a bit confused. Rosa grinned at Mycroft and the two laughed. Greg sighed, realizing he was the butt of a joke between the two. Mycroft calmed down and kissed Greg lightly.

Rosa stopped laughing and smiled at the two together. She hadn't seen Mycroft this happy in a long time.

"So are you the Gregory that My has been going on about?"

"Rosa!" Mycroft exclaimed, blushing.

"What I'm your best friend, I have a right to ask these questions."

Greg chuckled. "Well I certainly hope so. If he has someone else named Greg I'll feel very used."

"Oh My, I approve of this boyfriend."

Mycroft blushed harder and averted his gaze, while Greg coughed nervously. Rosa raised an eyebrow but let it go.

"I'm sorry, I've forgotten my manners. Gregory would you like to sit and have a cup of tea."

"Yes please."

They all sat down and Rosa poured Greg a cup of tea. Mycroft picked his up from the coffee table and sipped from it. It was silent for a bit, nobody really wanting to broach the subject why they were all there.

"So Rosa, My told me you two met at uni."

"Yes, we met our first year at Oxford in an introductory literature course. We had to discuss in groups The Canterbury Tales, My was sitting to the side looking bored and not participating. I called him out on it, saying he had nothing to say because he didn't do the reading. This smug bastard just grinned and made me eat my words by giving an in-depth analysis that had everyone including the professor surprised. After that I kept bugging him and he grudgingly accepted my friendship."

"And you had a _huge_ crush on me" Mycroft added with a smile.

"Well you were cute and smart but alas I wasn't your type" Rosa sighed dramatically.

Greg frowned, having a sense of déjà vu with this story. It was a lifetime ago but it reminded him of someone he had met when he was young, and Greg started to wonder if Mycroft was the man that took his breath away when he was 21.

Mycroft chuckled unaware of Greg's contemplation. "Well you did lack a certain body part."

The room went quiet and and everybody's expression went somber.

Greg put his cup on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees clasping his hands together.

"Why don't you tell me about these packages you've been getting."

Rosa put her cup down as well and grabbed a small card handing it to Greg. "At first I was sent flowers with this note. _To you with love, An Admirer._ I thought it was a harmless fan sending his best wishes, but then the flowers stopped and the packages started coming in the mail with the same note. I hired a private investigator to look into it because I didn't want the media to start prying into my life; but when he couldn't find anything and the packages kept coming I called Mycroft for help."

Greg took the card and listened intently. "Have you noticed anyone following you? Gotten any threats?"

"No I haven't gotten any threatening messages in any form. I don't really pay attention to who's following me because I know there's always at least one photographer trying to get a photo of me when I least expect it. I know that's not really smart, but I've found if you don't pay attention to paparazzi they leave you alone."

Greg nodded and sat back in the chair. "I promise I'll do everything I can to catch this guy."

"Thank you Gregory. It puts my mind at ease that your on the case. My speaks very highly of you."

Greg smiled and looked at Mycroft. "Does he now?"

"Of course. You're one of the best Scotland Yard has to offer" Mycroft said with soft smile.

Greg averted his eyes, humbled by the praise Mycroft was giving him.

"So Gregory, you must tell me more about yourself."

"I don't know what to tell you, I'm not that interesting."

"Oh tush, I find that hard to believe. My here is very picky and wouldn't date anyone that was less than interesting." Greg looked over at Mycroft who became very interested in how his cup was placed on its saucer, which made Greg smirk. "Why don't you tell how you decided to become a homicide detective."

"Its not a very happy story" Greg said, his expression somber. He looked at Rosa and sighed, she had the same determined look his daughter would get when she wanted to know something.

"It was the summer I turned 18. Me and my best mate had this band, we weren't that bad and had a decent following in town. We had just gotten done with a show to celebrate my birthday at this god awful bar; our other mates had taken off and we were locking up the van, getting ready to leave, when I realized I had left my jacket inside; I went back inside to get it."

Greg closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Mycroft put his tea down and put a hand on Greg's arm. Greg opened his eyes and grabbed Mycroft's hand, interlacing their fingers. He shot Mycroft a grateful smile before continuing.

"When I came out Dan was slumped against the van and some guy was going through his pockets. I yelled and the guy bolted before I could get a good look at him. He had stabbed Dan and I tried my hardest to stop the bleeding, but the blade had nicked his lung. I screamed myself hoarse trying to get help, but by the time it came it was too late."

Greg took a deep breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, a tear slipped past and rolled down his cheek. Mycroft squeezed Greg's hand, letting him know he was there for him.

"I'm so sorry. Did they ever catch the guy?" Greg opened his eyes, the tears still there but held back by force of will.

"Not until years later. When I scared the guy he dropped the knife he used to stab Dan. They didn't get him until my third year at uni, and it was only because he was arrested in a drugs bust."

Rosa put a hand on Greg's knee and squeezed it, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry for dragging all that up."

Greg wiped his eyes and patted Rosa's hand. "It's alright." Mycroft pulled their intertwined hands to his lips and kissed Greg's knuckles. This made Greg smile; he leaned over the arm of his chair and kissed Mycroft. Rosa sat back in her seat, watching the two smiling.

Rosa cleared her throat after a few moments and the two broke apart, Mycroft blushing and Greg smiling sheepishly.

"Gregory, I have to say I'm curious. You're an attractive man in your 40s and still single."

"Actually I was married for 15 years. The divorce was finalized early this year."

"Oh." Rosa pursed her lips. "Do you have any children?"

Greg's face brightened. "I have three adorably frustrating kids." Greg dug a photo out of his wallet and handed it to Rosa. "Daniel, Thomas, and Elizabeth. Daniel's 13 and just started playing football, Thomas is 9 and his nose is always glued to a book, and little Lizzie turned 7 not too long ago and has expressed interest in being a ballerina. Their mother got custody, but I try to see them as often as I can."

Rosa smiled and handed the photo back to Greg. "They're beautiful. Shame you don't get to see them all the time."

Greg nodded and put the photo away. They sat in silence for a few moments. Mycroft checked his watch and stood up.

"Rosa my dear, I fear I must leave you."

Rosa stood "Government can't run without you pulling its strings, eh." She said teasingly as she hugged Mycroft giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Mycroft smiled. "Much to everyone's disappointment, I only occupy a minor position within the government."

Greg stood chuckling. "Yes and I'm a bobby." Rosa giggled while Mycroft sighed. "I'm afraid I have to get going as well. If you get another package or threatening messages, don't hesitate to call me." Greg pulled out a card with his number on it and wrote his mobile number on the back. He handed the card to Rosa.

Rosa took the card and pulled Greg into a hug. "It was lovely to meet you. I do hope to see you again on different circumstances." She placed a kiss on his cheek and let him go.

"I couldn't agree more" Greg said smiling. He took Mycroft's hand and walked out of the house.

"So beautiful, would you like a lift?"

"That'd be lovely Gregory."

Greg unlocked his car and they climbed in.

As he drove away, Greg decided to ask Mycroft about something that was bugging him.

"Rosa said something back there and it got me thinking."

"Oh and what was that?"

"Well you know we've been dating for about a month and I don't see us stopping any time soon."

"Yes?" Mycroft didn't see where Greg was going with this.

"Well what I'm trying to get at is that we've been together for a while and I want to know what are we?"

"Oh" Mycroft took a few moments to think about before answering. "I suppose, if you wanted to…..you could call me your boyfriend."

Greg smiled "Alright." It was silent in the car as Greg drove. He flicked his eyes over to Mycroft, seeing the redhead looking out the window, his face a bit pensive.

"You know if you wanted you could call me your boyfriend as well."

Mycroft looked at Greg and smiled. He leaned over and placed a kiss on Greg's cheek causing Greg's smile to widen.

They continued on in silence. Greg pulled up in front of the Diogenes Club and looked at Mycroft. The redhead smiled and pulled Greg close, kissing him deeply. Greg returned the kiss eagerly, opening his mouth, inviting Mycroft in.

They sat there snogging like a couple of teenagers. Greg broke the kiss when the need for oxygen became too great. Mycroft chuckled while trying to catch his breath.

"What?"

"I'm sure anybody walking by had quite the show."

Greg looked out the windshield to the sidewalk, seeing people walk past quickly, and laughed.

Mycroft chuckled again and moved to get out of the car when Greg's hand stopped him. He looked back at Greg, who gave him a soft kiss.

"See you tonight?" Greg asked when Mycroft pulled away.

"Of course" Mycroft placed one last peck to Greg's lips and got out of the car, walking into the club. Greg watched him, biting his lower lip, then drove back to New Scotland Yard.

**xXx**

**Ok, that chapter went places I did not intend it to go. When I was writing it, the stuff just came to me and they happened, but it seemed so right.**

**I hope you liked it, if you didn't let me know.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hey all this week was hectic. What with finals, moving and setting up my room, I'm surprised that I finished this chapter.**

**I'd like to take the time to thank my reviewers AzrielLolita and Miss R. Hood.**

**Extra surprise this chapter is the longest one yet, you'll see why.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Greg was sitting in his office, reviewing a report, trying to think up who could be sending these packages, when Sherlock burst in the door.

"Please tell me you have a case."

"Well hello to you too" Greg said a bit irritably.

"Yes, hello, case" Sherlock demanded, holding out his hand.

Greg sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest, looking at Sherlock sternly.

"I'm not going to give you one if you're going to ask that way."

Sherlock growled in frustration and started to pace. "Please Lestrade. John's at work and I'm bored."

Greg smirked. "So if John wasn't at work you wouldn't be bored."

"Of course, John has a way of keeping me entertained."

Greg put a hand over his mouth to hold back laughter. _John is so going to hear about this_.

As Greg got his amusement under control, Sherlock stopped in front of the desk reading upside down the report Greg had been reviewing before Sherlock had come in.

"What's the rest of the details to that case?" Sherlock asked pointing at the report.

Greg sighed and handed the report, as well as the rest of the file to Sherlock.

"It's something Mycroft wanted my help on. An old friend of his has been getting body parts in the mail."

"What friend?" Sherlock asked absently, flipping through the file.

"Rosamund Pike"

Sherlock looked up from the file, his expression had a hint of shock. "Rosa?"

Greg nodded. "I believe this person is a in love with her and is courting her with these _presents_."

Sherlock went back to looking in the file, absorbing all of the information. "You wouldn't be wrong there." He picked out a photo of the card that had been included in each package. "These were included with flowers before he moved on to body parts?"

"Yes."

Just then Greg's cell phone rang. He answered it, not recognizing the number.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade"

"_Hello Gregory. This is Rosa. You told me to call you if I got any more of the packages. One was just dropped off with my mail."_

"Alright don't touch it, I'll be right over."

_"Thank you, Gregory. I'll see you when you get here."_

Greg hung up and gathered his keys and wallet, putting them in his pockets.

"There was another package delivered to her" Sherlock stated. Greg nodded, scribbling something down on a piece of paper and walked over to the door to his office. He poked his head out and saw Donovan at her desk.

"Donovan" Greg called across the floor, waving for her to come in to his office.

Sally quickly came into the office closing the door behind her. "What is it boss?"

"I have a very sensitive case and it needs to be kept quite. I need you to get Anderson and meet me at this address, no marked cars, no lights and sirens." He handed Sally the piece of paper he had written on. Sally nodded and left the office.

Greg went back to his desk and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, putting it on as he walked back to the door.

Sherlock put the file back on Greg's desk. "I'm coming with you."

Greg looked at Sherlock as he opened the door and sighed. "Fine."

**xXx**

Rosa opened the door and was surprised to see Sherlock with Greg.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" She asked pulling him in to a hug.

"I work with Lestrade when I get bored." He said returning the hug stiffly.

"When I let you" Greg said shortly. Donovan and Anderson pulled up and got out, standing next to the car waiting for Greg's instructions. Greg signaled for them to wait for now and turned to Rosa.

"Where is the package?"

"On the kitchen counter" Rosa said, and led them to the kitchen. She stayed in the doorway as Sherlock crossed to the counter, pulling on a pair of latex gloves he had grabbed from Lestrade car.

Greg looked at Sherlock, then turned to Rosa placing a hand on her upper arm. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to."

Rosa nodded and left down the hall, walking into the lounge. Greg went back into the kitchen and stood a few feet away from Sherlock as he examined the box and contents.

"What was sent this time?"

"A rib." Sherlock answered absently. He examined the evidence a few moments longer then stepped back, pulling the gloves off.

"Well?"

"Do you know where the flowers that contained these notes came from?"

"No, but we can ask Rosa."

Sherlock swept past Greg and went into the lounge where Rosa was sitting staring absently out the window. Greg went outside and gave instructions to Donovan and Anderson to collect the evidence, then followed Sherlock to the lounge.

"Rosa."

Sherlock stood to the side, and Greg stayed in the doorway. Rosa looked up at the two men, a scared smile flashing across her face.

"Tell me about the flowers" Sherlock said calmly. Greg was a little surprised at the softness in his tone

Rosa let out a nervous breath. "They were this arrangment of orchids and roses from a flower shop a few blocks over."

"Were they left on your doorstep or…" Greg asked from the doorway.

"The shop owner would ring the doorbell and hand deliver them. He never talked, would just hand me the flowers and nod before leaving."

Sherlock nodded and walked out of the house without another word.

Greg let out an exasperated sigh, walking over to sit down next to Rosa. She looked shaken, prompting Greg to put his arm around her.

"Sorry about Sherlock, he gets like that when on a case."

"You should have seen him when he was entering puberty."

Greg shuddered at the thought of a teenage Sherlock. He saw Rosa wringing her hands and hugged her closer.

"Don't worry we'll catch this guy" Greg whispered soothingly, trying to calm his partner's best friend down.

Rosa sniffed and nodded.

**xXx**

Sherlock had just stepped outside when his phone buzzed.

**Just got off work. What are you up to? –JW**

**Working a case with Lestrade. I was thinking of getting some flowers for the flat, want to help pick them out? –SH**

Sherlock started walking to the flower shop that he had observed on his way to Rosa's with Lestrade.

**Sure? Where do you want to get them? –JW**

Sherlock saw the shop just ahead and texted John the address. He stopped in front of the shop, it was closed with a sign in the door that said they were out on deliveries.

Sherlock stood there for a few minutes, looking in the windows for any activity in the shop. Seeing that it was quiet, Sherlock went around to the back. There weren't any windows open for him to climb in through, so he decided to pick the lock. A few moments later Sherlock was inside the shop looking for anything he could to back up his theory.

After searching through the main part of the shop, Sherlock went to the flat upstairs and came up with nothing as well. He was heading back down the stairs to go search the basement when he got a text from John.

**Where are you? I think the shop is closed. – JW**

Sherlock detoured to the front of the shop and opened the door. John jumped when the door opened and Sherlock ushered him inside.

When the door closed, Sherlock pulled John close and kissed him. He pulled away and went to the back where the entrance to the basement was.

It took John a few moments to get his bearings.

"This was never about flowers, was it?" John asked, trailing after Sherlock.

Sherlock shot a smile up at John, while he picked the lock on the door to the basement. When he heard the door click, Sherlock stood up.

"That's not entirely true; it was about flowers, just not for the flat."

John rolled his eyes, which made Sherlock smirk. He opened the door and jogged down the stairs, John following him at a slower pace. When Sherlock got to the bottom step he paused and pulled a mini torch from his pocket, using it to scan the basement.

Sherlock was standing next to the bottom step when John neared the end of the stairs. With a sigh John leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, nuzzling his nose into the soft curls at the back of his head. Sherlock smiled when he felt John against his head and continued to survey the basement.

Sherlock caught sight of a locked freezer on the opposite side of the room, he went to move towards it but felt John tighten his arms around his neck and bury his face furthur in Sherlock's hair.

"John"

John hummed his discontent at Sherlock moving. Sherlock went to move again, this time John hopped off the stairs and onto Sherlock's back, wrapping his legs around the taller man's waist.

"Uff, John" Sherlock's legs buckled at the sudden weight on his back but straightened up a moment later. When John didn't make any moves to let go, Sherlock went over to the freezer and started to pick the lock.

John placed a few soft kisses to the top of Sherlock's head when he wasn't dropped. He held on to Sherlock breathing in deeply, relaxed by the slight smell of cinnamon and cloves that was distinctly Sherlock.

Sherlock finally unlocked the freezer and opened it.

"Oh" Sherlock said excitedly.

Curious, John peeked around Sherlock's head and saw the freezer was filled with various human body parts.

John swallowed and dropped from Sherlock's back.

It's not that he wasn't used to seeing random body parts, what with Sherlock's experiments. It was more of why would a florist have a freezer full of body parts, unless he killed people for them.

Sherlock pulled out his mobile and texted Lestrade.

**I found the killer's lair. He has quite the collection of body parts. –SH**

**Where? –GL**

Sherlock texted Lestrade the address of the flowershop and closed the freezer door.

"Come along John. Lestrade's on his way and you know how sensitive he is about us breaking and entering."

"You're the one breaking and entering, I don't know why I follow you" John said as he followed Sherlock out of the basement to outside the front of the shop.

"It's because breaking the law turns you on; you just won't admit it because of your strong moral principle."

John rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall outside the shop. A few minutes later Greg parked his car in front of the shop and climbed out.

"You know I need a warrant to go in there."

"Just have Mycroft pull a few strings; I'm sure he'd be willing to, considering it involves his best friend" Sherlock said while looking at something on his phone.

Greg sighed, "Alright but we are waiting for Anderson and Donovan. They just have to finish collecting the rib left at Rosa's."

Sherlock let out a low growl, "Fine"

While waiting, Greg called Mycroft who said he'd have the warrant faxed to Rosa's before Greg's team left.

A few moments later Anderson and Donovan arrived and the police team went to work. Sherlock stayed outside scanning the streets while John wandered in the shop amongst the flowers.

A white van drove by the shop slowing a little as it went by. Sherlock scowled and went into the flower shop, walking over to John.

"John, you might need this."

Sherlock pulled out John's handgun and handed it to the shorter man. John hissed and quickly tucked the gun in his waistband, hiding it with his coat.

"Are you trying to get me arressted?!" John whispered furiously.

Sherlock smirked and placed a quick kiss to the top of the blonde's head. He then walked to the top of the basement steps.

"Lestrade, we should probably go check on Rosa."

Greg looked up the stairs at Sherlock confused by the man's concern for his brother's friend. Sherlock saw Greg's confusion and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Come on man, time is of the essence."

Greg sensed Sherlock's genuine frustration and decided to just take the genius on his word. Greg looked back at Donovan.

"I'll be back. Call the rest of the team, we don't need to be as discreet here."

Donovan nodded her head and Greg went up the stairs to an impatient Sherlock.

As soon as he knew Lestrade was going to follow him Sherlock walked swiftly to the door, calling back "Come on John".

John and Greg followed Sherlock as he walked towards Rosa's house at a speed that was verging on running.

Halfway there Greg's phone started to ring.

"Hello" he said picking it up.

There wasn't an answer. In the background he heard a man talking.

"_I've always loved you. Don't you love me? Haven't I given you enough? Haven't I shown you I love you enough?_"

"_I don't even know you."_

_"That doesn't mean you can't love me."_

Greg swore, shoved his phone in his pocket and started running the last few blocks to Rosa's house. Sherlock and John ran after him.

When Greg got to the door he took a few moments to pull his gun out. He took a deep breath slipped into the house through the open door. Greg treaded carefully to the lounge, where he heard the man's histerical pleads.

He almost reached the door when a floorboard creaked. There was a moment of silence then the sound of something being knocked over. Silently cursing, Greg burst into the room gun raised. He took a nervous breath when he saw a man holding Rosa as a human sheild, a knife pressed against her throat.

"Who are you?" the man asked, his voice calmer than before.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade. I'd like to know your name." Greg replied calmly.

"Jacob Lang."

"Jacob, can I call you Jacob?" The guy nodded. "May I ask why you're doing this?"

The man's expression turned manic. "I'm in love with Rosamund here, and I couldn't take her not knowing it any longer. Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurts to not know how they feel about you?"

Greg kept silent, knowing that the wrong word could set this guy off.

"I started off sending flowers, but then I thought that's too conventional. Who hasn't sent flowers to try and win someone over. So I got creative."

"You're the one who's been sending me human body parts?" Rosa asked fear in her tone.

"Yes, I wanted to show you how much I loved you. They're proof of my commitment to you. Can't you see that. Don't you love me?"

"How can I, I don't even know you."

Jacob's expression grew histerical and the hand with the knife slipped slightly, causing a trickle of blood to slide down the blade and Rosa's throat.

Suddenly John burst through the door and shot the man between his eyes. The body tensed for a moment then fell to the ground, the knife dropping from Rosa's throat.

The tension in the room relaxed instantly. Greg put his gun away and rushed over to Rosa who looked on the verge of collapse. John put his own gun away and went into doctor mode, going over to Rosa as Greg guided her to a chair.

As the two men checked over Rosa, Sherlock stood in the doorway looking at the body before pulling out his mobile and calling Mycroft.

"_Is something wrong Sherly?"_

"Nothing major, I just thought you should know that the person sending Rosa body parts won't be bothering her anymore."

"_Should I even be surprised that you got involved in this."_

"I would say the cake is clouding your brain if you were. However you might want to pull one of your cover ups because John shot the man in Rosa's lounge and I know how you and your friends like their privacy."

Sherlock heard his brother sigh. "_Rightly so. I'll send a team over to take care of it. Hand me over to Gregory."_

Sherlock walked over to Greg and thrust his phone at the older man.

"Yes?" Greg asked into the phone.

"_Gregory, I'm sending my own team to Rosa's house and the flower shop to take care of things. I would like it if you could call yours and have them hand everything over when mine gets there. It's also for the best if we forget about Dr. Watson ever being there."_

"I agree, even though it goes against what I stand for as a Detective."

"_I understand dear. I'm sorry to put you in this position."_

"I know, it's to protect your friend's privacy."

"_How is she doing?"_

_"_A bit shaken but John is looking after her."

"_Hmmm. I__ should get going, see you for dinner?"_

"If you're not too busy. See you tonight."

Greg hung up and handed the phone to Sherlock. He pulled out his own phone and placed a quick call to Donovan, instructing her to hand everything over to Mycroft's team when they got there.

When he hung up Rosa had calmed down and was staring blankly at the ground.

"Rosa, do you have any place to stay tonight?" Greg asked softly.

She looked up at Greg and nodded numbly.

"Why don't you go pack a few things and call whoever you need to. Mycroft will have everything taken care of by tomorrow."

She got up and started to head out of the room but paused. Rosa then turned to John and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you" She whispered in his ear, her voice on the verge of tears. John returned the hug and rubbed her back soothingly.

"It was no problem."

Rosa let go of John and left the room.

Silence fell over the room, John shifting about nervously waiting for Greg to arrest him.

"Oh John quit your fussing. Lestrade isn't going to arrest you, Mycroft is taking care of everything." Sherlock said petulantly. John let out a relieved sigh.

"Unless you need anything else, I'm starving and I'm sure John is tired after work and this excitement."

"Not unless you can tell me how he got rid of the bodies" Greg replied wearily.

"I would have thought it obvious. He incinerated them using the kiln in his basement, then mixed the ash in with the clay he used to make the custom vases he sold."

Greg nodded as John and Sherlock left. He stayed with the body until Mycroft's team arrived.

Rosa came into the hall with a bag. Greg went over to her.

"Are you alright?"

"Not really but I'll get there."

Greg nodded. "Do you need me to drive you anywhere?"

"No, I'll be fine thank you though."

They walked outside the house and Rosa got in to a waiting cab. Greg sighed and walked back to the flower shop where he left his car.

He got to the shop but his car wasn't there. Instead he saw Mycroft leaning against his own black car.

Greg smiled and walked over to Mycroft, giving the redhead a kiss.

"We've got to stop meeting like this" Greg said when he pulled away.

Mycroft smiled and placed a kiss to Greg's cheek before opening the car door.

"So what did you do with my car this time?"

"State Secret Gregory dear."

"I'll get it out of you eventually Mycroft darling" Greg said sliding in to the car.

"I'd like to see you try" Mycroft replied getting in next to Greg.

"I can be very persuasive when I choose to be."

**xXx**

**So let me know what you think.**

**Also I've gotten a request to write what happened to Mycroft in Sudan. I'm still debating and I have a few ideas as to how I write it, but if I do write it I will let you all know.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello darlings, I have good news and potentially upsetting news.**

**Good news first: This chapter is extra long and you all finally meet the little Lestrades. I know! They're adorable and I fell in love with them as I was writing and I think you will too.**

**I was trying to avoid it but here's the potentially upsetting news: I have been finding it increasingly harder to keep my chapter a week deadline and have come to a decision about that. I am going to take a posting hiatus. **

**Don't despair, I'll continue to write for the story. I am not abandoning you all. I could never do that. What I'm saying is that for at least the next month there won't be any new chapters posted.**

**But that doesn't mean you guys can't message me or anything, I'd still love to hear from you, my wonderful readers. I'll still post progress updates on my profile page and you can always check out my tumblr where I blog about my life, Superwholock and this story.**

**So without further ado here's chapter 15.**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Mycroft got out of his car and walked into the café he was meeting Rosa for tea. She was already sitting at their table that was a bit removed from the rest.

Rosa looked up and smiled as Mycroft sat opposite her. It had been two weeks since she had asked for his help, the horror was still fresh in her mind but she was no longer losing sleep fearing someone wanted to kill her.

"How are you doing dear?" Mycroft asked, a hint of worry trickling through his voice.

"I've been better but not nearly as bad as I was a week ago."

Mycroft nodded. A cup of tea was placed in front of him, and they sat in silence sipping their drinks.

"I see you're out of the cast."

Mycroft instinctively flexed his left hand, "Yes it's good to be free of that blasted thing."

Rosa nodded. There was silence between them again, this time Rosa's expression was contemplative. Mycroft waited silently knowing whatever his best friend had in mind, she would let him know when she was ready.

"I've been meaning to ask you something since tea with Gregory" Rosa said finally.

"Oh what's that?"

"There's a lot of similarities between him and Sex on Legs Greg from the end of second year."

Mycroft smiled, "That's not far from Greg's nickname when he was starting out at the Yard."

"You're dodging the question My."

"You never asked a question, you made an observation."  
"Fine. Is Gregory Sex on Legs Greg?"

Mycroft took a deep breath, "Yes he is."

"What? And you didn't tell me you finally found him?" Rosa asked, annoyance coloring her tone.

"I didn't tell you because I'm sure he doesn't remember" Mycroft replied calmly.

"And what has that to do with you not telling me that you finally found the man you've been pining after since the end of our second year in uni?"

Mycroft sighed, "Because my dear, you don't know how to keep things like this to yourself. Have you ever thought that the reason I didn't call him all those years ago was because I was scared it was all just superficial interest of a night out drinking, and that I was content with the possibility of what could have been?" Mycroft's annoyance was subtle, but Rosa had known him for years and picked up on it.

She narrowed her eyes, glaring daggers at her best friend. "If we weren't in public, I'd punch you. You should very well know by now that if you had asked me to keep it a secret I would've. Furthermore, I think you should tell Gregory how long you've been pining after him. I'm not saying you should do it now, that'd possibly scare him away, but if you two get serious you should consider telling him. You never know if you left the same impression on him that he did on you."

Mycroft pursed his lips and Rosa's expression softened. She reached out covered Mycroft's hand with her own.

"You haven't been in a serious relationship in the time that I've known you and I think this has something to do with it" Rosa said softly.

A small smile crossed Mycroft's face. He knew exactly why he hadn't had a serious relationship in 20 years, because none of them had been Greg. Sure Mycroft had dated, but everytime the man he was dating started to talk about the future in long range terms, Mycroft distanced himself. A few of his partners had called him out on the distancing and My had always blamed it on the nature of his job. No one ever knew it was because his heart had been stolen by a gorgeous brunette at a bar who later became a well respected Detective Inspector.

**xXx**

It was Greg's day off, and luckily enough it was on a Saturday. This was enough to make his ex-wife cave to his request to spend time with the kids.

Greg knocked on the door of his former residence. It was a few minutes before Daniel opened the door, surprise swept across his face.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

Greg smiled, "I'm here to get you, Thomas and Lizzie, and we're going to spend the day together."

"Does mom know?"

"Of course I know." Daniel jumped with his mother's sudden appearance. "Now go tell your brother and sister, and make sure they get ready to go soon."

Daniel nodded and dashed up the stairs. Amanda sighed.

"You might as well come in." She said as she walked into the kitchen. Greg followed closing the front door behind him.

"How have you been?" Greg asked politely.

"Alright, although you could have given me more warning that you wanted to spend time with the kids."

"You know how my job is and I didn't want to get their hopes up in case I couldn't come today."

"Just be glad we had nothing to do this weekend."

Greg was going to reply when Elizabeth came bursting through the kitchen door and running to Greg, arms open for a hug. With a smile Greg picked her up and twirled her around. He stopped still holding her in his arms, Lizzie's hands clasped at the back of his neck.

"Hey Princess!"

"Daddy where have you been, there's so much I have to tell you."

"I'm sorry Princess, I've been busy with work. But you want to know what?"

"What Daddy?"

"I have all day to spend with you and your brothers."

An excited smile split across Lizzie's face. "All day?" She asked excitedly.

"All day" Greg said with equal enthusiasm. Lizzie squealed with excitement. "But you know we can't do all the fun things I have in mind if you don't get ready."

"Well then put me down!" She said patting his shoulders. Greg chuckled and did as asked. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Lizzie was running out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Still grinning Greg looked over to Amanda, who was stirring a cup of coffee, an unamused expression on her face. Greg sighed.

"What is it this time?" Greg asked bracing himself for the argument that always closely followed that expression.

"You missed Daniel's game again." Amanda replied in a cold tone.

"I know and I feel horrible about it. I was in the middle of a case, and I honestly tried to get away but it was see my son's game or let a killer get away."

Amanda's eyes narrowed. "You always use that as an excuse. Your job shouldn't be more important than your kids."

"I'm sorry for trying to make this world a safer place for _our children_. Christ Amanda, you don't make it any easier for me to see them."

"Well I can't let them drop everything just because you have a few moments to spare. Someone has to teach them how to be responsible."

"_Responsibility_. Oh that's rich coming from you."Greg saw Amanda swell up to unleash more spite, but knowing the kids could overhear them Greg cut her off before she could get started. "You know what, I don't want to argue about this right now. I'll make sure I get them back by 8."

Greg walked out of the kitchen before she could say anything else. He froze when he saw Daniel standing on the bottom step of the staircase with a solemn expression.

"You know I don't mind."

"What's that?" Greg asked.

"I don't mind that you missed my game. It's just mom being a harpy."

Greg's expression turned stern. "Don't talk about you mother that way."

"Sorry. But dad, I know how important your work is and if catching the bad guy means that you have to miss my games then I'm ok with it."

Greg smiled, walked over to the stairs and pulled his oldest into a hug. "When did you become so wise?"

Daniel pulled out of the hug and grinned, "Don't know must've learned it from my dad."

"Alright smart ass. Why don't you get your ball and coat and check on Lizzie to see what's taking her so long. I'll see what's holding up Thomas."

They walked up the stairs together, Daniel dissappearing into his room while Greg crossed the hall and knocked on Thomas' door.

There was a quiet "Come in", and Greg opened the door slowly and stepped into the room. He scanned the room noting piles of books stacked all over, and Thomas sitting cross legged on his bed, a book open in his lap his head bowed over it. Greg smiled at his son and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to him.

"So what are you reading this time?"

Thomas lifted the book and showed his dad the cover, while still reading.

"Ah, The Once and Future King. I thought you've read it already?"

Thomas smiled and placed his bookmark in the book closing it. "It's a classic dad. You can never get tired of a classic."

"I know that, just wanted to see if you did."

Thomas rolled his eyes and stretched his legs out over the edge of the bed.

"Shall we go see if Danny got Lizzie ready to go?" Greg asked.

They left the room and went Elizabeth's room opening the door to find a frustrated Daniel squeezing his soccer ball, while his little sister was going through her drawers.

"Woah there, wouldn't want to flatten the thing." Greg said putting a hand on his eldest's shoulder.

"She's trying to find her tutu, but refuses to believe me when I tell her mom probably has it in the wash."

"I saw it here yesterday" Lizzie insisted.

Greg squat down next to Lizzie and put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to stop rummaging around her drawers and look at him.

"Sweetie I know you want to wear your tutu to show it to me, but it's alright. You'll look pretty no matter what, and you'll always be my princess."

Lizzie sighed and brushed some of her hair out of her face. "Ok daddy." She grabbed a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt out of her drawers and ran into her closet, closing herself inside it. A few moments later she walked out in the outfit she had taken in with her a pair of pink high top shoes in her hands.

Lizzie sat down and quickly pulled on her shoes, jumping up after the lace were tied.

"Alright lets go" Lizzie said grabbing Greg's hand and pulling him out the door, her older brother's following them.

**xXx**

Greg and his kids just got done at the spending time at the park and were headed to an ice cream shop that happened to be near Thomas' favorite bookstore.

They had just gotten their ice cream and sat at a table outside, when Greg's mobile ringed.

He moved his cone to his left hand and dug his phone out of his pocket, answering it without looking to see who was calling.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"_Oh so formal, am I interrupting something."_

"No you're not My, I had my hands full so I didn't have time to look before I answered."

"_Ah. Well I was calling because I've got some time right now and I was wondering if you wanted to get some lunch; if you're not too busy of course."_

"I've got my kids today, but if you don't mind them coming along I'd love to get some lunch."

He looked at his children eating their ice cream. Daniel was looking at the people walking by the shop but Greg saw the slight tilt to his head that indicated he was listening to the conversation. Thomas was absently licking his own ice cream cone while reading his book. Lizzie was intent on eating her ice cream and keep it dripping down her arm.

"_I didn't know you had them today. I don't want to intrude, so why don't you forget about lunch."_

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel left behind. I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

"_No it's quite alright. I know how precious your time with them is. I just got back from tea with Rosa anyway."_

"Alright My. Are we still on for tonight?"

"_Yes. I'll see you at yours around 7?"_

"Can we make it 8:30, I've got to have the kids back by 8."

"_Not a problem. See you tonight."_

"See you tonight." Greg hung up his phone and slid it in his pocket.

He looked up and three sets of eyes were on him.

"Do you have to go dad?" Daniel asked, a bit of sadness crossed his face.

"No, I don't have to go anywhere. You lot are stuck with me."

They relaxed at this statement and smiled.

"So who were you talking to?" Lizzie asked.

"A friend." Greg replied smiling. He went to eating his half melted ice cream.

"Sounded like more than a friend." Thomas said without looking up from his book.

"Ohh daddy, are dating someone? Can we meet her?" Lizzie asked excitedly.

Greg took a deep breath. "Since when is it any of your business whether I date or not, missy?"

"I just want you to be happy daddy. You haven't really been happy for a while."

Greg furrowed his eyebrows, worried that his kids have seen just how unhappy he'd been.

"So are you going to answer my question?"

"Yes I'm dating someone. Hopefully one day you all can meet them."

"My's an interesting name dad. What's it short for?" Daniel asked.

"Not you too." Greg sighed, he was bound to have this conversation with his kids, might as well be now. "My is short for Mycroft."

"That's not a lady's name daddy."

"I know, that's because My isn't a woman."

Understanding dawned across Lizzie's face. Greg looked to his sons to see Thomas still reading and Daniel nodding acceptingly.

"I'm sorry I called Mycroft a lady daddy, I didn't know."

"It's alright Princess." There was an awkward pause before Greg asked, "So you guys are alright with me dating a man?"

"Of course we're alright with it." Thomas said finally looking up from his book. "As long as you're happy dad, we don't care who you date. We love you no matter what."

Daniel and Lizzie were nodding their heads in agreement, Lizzie more enthusiasticly. Greg let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Alright you three, lets go get cleaned up and it's off to the bookstore."

**xXx**

It was 7:45 when Greg got the kids back home. They walked in hands full of bags from the bookstore and a few other shops. Amanda came into the hall, her arms crossed.

"Mommy we had a great day with daddy!" Lizzie said animatedly.

"Did you now?"

"Yes we went to the park and I climbed a tree, then we got ice cream and went shopping. I got some dance books and a new tutu!"

"That sounds like fun honey."

"Also we learned that daddy has a boyfriend named Mycroft and one day we're gonna meet him."

"Interesting."

"Alright why don't you three take all this upstairs and get ready for bed" Greg said handing Daniel the few bags he had carried in.

"But I'm not even tired daddy!" Lizzie said throwing her arms around Greg's waist, burying her face in his shirt.

"I know Princess but it's nearly bed time. If you stay up all night you'll be really tired tomorrow." Greg replied returning Lizzie's hug, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

Lizzie sighed and pulled out of the hug, "Alright. When will we see you again?"

"Hopefully soon."

"Pinkie promise." Lizzie demaned holding her hand out, pinkie extended.

Greg crouched down and wrapped his own pinkie around Lizzie's. "Pinkie promise."

Lizzie smiled and shook their intertwined pinkies; she then wrapped her arms around Greg's neck placing a kiss to his cheek.

Greg smiled placed a kiss of his own on her cheek before standing up straight. "Alright Princess, get moving."

Lizzie ran up the stairs with her bags. Thomas stepped up to Greg next, giving his dad a hug as well.

"Thank you for the books. I had fun today" Thomas said as he pulled out of the hug. He walked up the stairs, leaving Daniel to say goodbye.

"It was nice spending the day with you dad." Daniel said as he hugged Greg. "Like I said earlier, don't feel too pressured at making my games, they're not as important as your work."

Greg smiled as Daniel went up the stairs, until he saw the dark expression on Amanda's face.

"So you're dating Mycroft. How long have you two been dating? Were you together before the divorce?"

"Of course we weren't together before the divorce. We've been dating for two months now."

Amanda's eyes narrowed, "Two months. Were you even going to tell if Lizzie hadn't spilled the beans?"

"Of course I would have told you eventually. I know how you get Amanda, so I wasn't going to mention it, especially if it didn't last."

"I always knew you had a thing for Mycroft, what with the way you talked about him. That's part of the reason why we had our problems, you didn't love me and now I see why."

"That's complete shit and you know that. I loved you plenty, we just grew apart. I was trying to find a way to bring us closer when I found out about you cheating."

"I wouldn't have had to find companionship elsewhere if you had spent more time with me. It was always your job and bloody Sherlock Holmes, before you'd spend time with me."

"I've told you my job is important and Sherlock has helped me do solve more cases, thus making it safer out there, I thought you understood that. You know what, I'm tired of having this argument. You do this everytime."

Greg quickly left the house and drove home.

**xXx**

Greg walked into his flat and flipped on the lights. No sooner had he taken off his coat and shoes, there was a knock at the door.

Greg opened it to find Mycroft standing on the doorstep. Mycroft's eyes swept over Greg, taking in his agitation and defeat.

"This is a bad time, I should go." Mycroft said apologetically, turning to leave.

"No, My don't leave." Greg said putting a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder to keep him from getting further away.

Mycroft looked back at Greg. "You sure? You look like you want to be left alone."

"I'm sure. The last thing I need right now is to be alone." Greg said with a sad smile.

"Alright." Mycroft sighed and stepped into the flat, closing the door behind him. Greg stepped forward and kissed Mycroft lightly before going to the kitchen and grabbing a couple of beers out of the fridge.

He went into the lounge where he found Mycroft sitting on the couch, jacket and shoes off, his leg crossed. Greg smiled and sat down next to the redhead.

"Comfy?" Greg asked handing Mycroft one of the beers.

"Very." He replied taking the drink with a nod. There was a few moments of silence. "Another fight with the ex-wife?"

"Yeah."

"I'm here if you want to talk about it."

Greg debated not saying anything but decided otherwise.

"I told the kids about me and you. Which they were great about and want to meet you."

"Ok."

"Lizzie told Amanda, cause bless her heart she's just glad that I'm happy and wants to share it. Well Amanda accused me of cheating on her with you."

"That's preposterous. We've only been together a couple of months."

"I know but Amanda was looking to pick a fight. She then blamed me for her cheating saying that I spent too much time at work and that I didn't love her."

"Your work is important to you and if she took that as you not loving her then she doesn't understand you well enough."

"Yeah" Greg said with a sigh. He was lost in thought, wondering if what she said had been true.

He and Amanda had dated a long time; Greg had liked her well enough but he had always been on the lookout for the gorgeous redhead he met the summer his band was touring. When it had become apparent that he wouldn't find Mike, he had caved to Amanda's prodding at getting married. Plus his mother had been getting on his case about settling down and giving her grandchildren. And one thing you don't do is argue with Maggie Lestrade.

That brought him back to the mystery that had presented itself to Greg two weeks ago. Mycroft had some similarities to Mike, but Greg wasn't sure enough to ask his boyfriend about it. Greg didn't want to ruin his relationship with Mycroft in the off chance he wasn't the gorgeous redheaded political science major at Oxford that had stolen his heart.

"What are you thinking about?" Mycroft asked snapping Greg back to reality.

"Nothing important."

Mycroft placed a kiss to Greg's temple and put his arm around the older man, sitting back pulling Greg with him.

"Don't dwell on it too much." My said softly before placing another kiss on Greg's cheek.

Greg sighed and leaned his head on Mycroft's shoulder "I won't."

**xXx**

**Oh dear! I just realized I forgot to thank my lovely reviewers from the last chapter.**

**A big thank you to SeverusDmitri18, AzrielLolita, Miss R. Hood, and HarnGin, your kind words are what keep me writing.**

**Well did you like it? I hope you did.**

**I look forward to see you all again when I'm come back.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: HELLO MY LOVELIES! Did you miss me, because I sure missed you. My hiatus was refreshing and invigorating. It helped my creative well refill and I have a ton of new chapters written and am still writing like mad.**

**This chapter is in no short supply of fluff. I hope you like it.**

**It's good to be back.**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, those are the creations of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and most importantly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's their sandbox and I'm just playing in it.

**xXx**

Sherlock groaned as he woke up, his head pounding and mouth dry. He felt John shift in his sleep beside him and quietly slipped from bed. His head was swimming when he stood up; Sherlock shook his head and took an unsteady step forward, catching himself from falling on his face with the wall.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure he didn't wake John. Satisfied to see the blonde dozing peacefully, Sherlock continued his progress to the bathroom. Halfway to the door his stomach turned and he quickly ran in, barely making it to the toilet when the contents of his stomach evacuated.

John woke up to the sounds of Sherlock retching in the bathroom. He got up and walked to the door of the ensuite bathroom, pausing when he saw the genius flushing the toilet and laying his head on the edge of the bowl.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

Sherlock closed his eyes then got up to brush his teeth. "I'm fine John."

John crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. He took in Sherlock's pale complexion and stepped forward pressing the back of his hand to the genius' forehead.

"Christ Sherlock you're burning up!"

"John I said I'm fine." Sherlock rinsed out his mouth of toothpaste and moved to leave the bathroom, when another dizzy spell hit him and he had to grab hold of the counter.

"No you're not." John slipped under Sherlock's arm and guided him to the bed. Sherlock moved to get up, but John pushed him back down. "Sherlock you're sick, that means you have to rest."

"John honestly I feel fine, there's no need for me to rest."

"I beg to differ; you're running a fever that is obviously impairing your judgment. Now listen to your doctor and lay down."

"My doctor's an idiot" Sherlock said yawning.

John scowled at Sherlock and grabbed a thermometer from the bathroom, "Well I may be and idiot but I'm you're idiot. Now open up so I can take your temperature."

Sherlock grumbled but did as he was told. John placed the thermometer under Sherlock's tongue and went back to the bathroom to get a cool wash cloth, coming back and placing it on Sherlock's forehead as the thermometer beeped.

"Now you see I was right you have a fever and are therefore sick."

"I don't believe you" Sherlock replied suspiciously.

John sighed and showed Sherlock the display which said he had a fever of 38°C.

"As a doctor I prescribe a day of bed rest and letting me take care of you."

"But John, I have cases and experiments that need my attention today" Sherlock whined.

"They're cold cases Greg gave you to keep you occupied and the toes in the cupboard will be there tomorrow, even though I have a right mind to throw them out."

"You wouldn't" Sherlock said threateningly.

"No I won't, not this time anyway" John chuckled, and Sherlock sighed in relief.

"Staying in bed all day is boring." Sherlock mumbled.

"Not if you're resting like a good patient."

"Sleep is boring." Sherlock muttered darkly.

John chuckled; Sherlock was both cute and frustrating when he had to stay in bed, whether from injury or dropping from exhaustion and starvation. Luckily since their relationship had started Sherlock hadn't needed to be hospitalized for not eating or sleeping during a case. The dark haired genius was a bit more compliant with eating and sleeping when a certain blonde doctor rewarded him for good behavior.

"I know but if you're good, I may just reward you when you're better."

"What kind of reward?"

"You'll just have to be good and see."

Sherlock pouted causing John to chuckle. He placed a kiss on the genius' cheek and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

The rest of the day was quiet, mostly. John had to chase Sherlock back to bed a few times, when the genius tried to sneak out to check on his experiment. By the fourth time John was seriously considering tying Sherlock to the bedpost. He discarded the idea after remembering the genius could slip bonds easily and hadn't fought being tied up in the past because of what John had been doing to him while he was roped to the bed.

Finally after chasing Sherlock back to bed for the seventh time, John made a deal with the dark haired genius. If Sherlock could beat him in a game of riddles John would let him work on cases. Sherlock had accepted the terms, confident he could beat the former army doctor.

Almost an hour later, John had barely been able to answer Sherlock's last riddle correctly and was struggling to come up with a new riddle when one he learned recently came to mind.

"No matter how hard you look, you'll never find me, unless you have a telescope to help you see. I was once called a planet, but not anymore. Now I'm just a 'Dwarf Planet,' but too important to ignore."

"That's cheating; you know I've deleted everything about the solar system from my mind palace!"

"I would have thought you educated yourself on the solar system seeing how it helped save the boy Moriarty had strapped to a bomb."

"That was a one time thing, I didn't delete the information pertaining to that case but I see no need to clutter my mind with useless information."

"Alright, so do you concede?"

"Never!" Sherlock reached for his phone, but John batted his hand away.

"That's against the rules Sherlock."

"So is using a riddle you know I could never solve."

"I don't remember making that rule when we started, however we both agreed that we couldn't use outside sources to solve the riddles."

"How else am I supposed to solve it then?"

"Maybe you're not supposed to solve everything dear." Sherlock huffed in response causing John to chuckle.

They sat there in silence for 10 minutes before Sherlock scowled and muttered "Fine you win" before turning over and pulling the sheet over his head.

John smiled and left the room. He came back a few minutes later, placing the folder of one of the cold cases Greg had left the day before on the bed next to Sherlock. He placed a kiss to the messy curls peeking out of the top of the covers before leaving the room again.

It was early evening before John checked in on Sherlock again. He smiled when he saw the consulting detective sound asleep, the case file spread out on the bed next to him.

John silently walked over to the bed and felt the sleeping genius' forehead. He brushed the curls out Sherlock's eyes satisfied that the fever had finally broken. Sherlock half opened his eyes at the feel of John's hand.

"Shhhh, go back to sleep. I was just coming to check on you."

"No, I'm awake." Sherlock said sleepily.

"I know but you really should sleep."

Sherlock yawned, "Maybe just for a bit." John smiled to himself when Sherlock closed his eyes and was soon snoring softly into the pillow.

John started gathering the reports and putting them back in the folder. He felt Sherlock's hand against his wrist.

"You can leave them there" Sherlock mumbled.

"You don't need them out while you're sleeping Sherlock." John said putting the last report in the folder and closing it.

"Fine, I've solved it anyway. The fiancée's mother killed the victim because she was taking away her son."

"Ah"

"Will you let Lestrade know?"

"Of course Sherlock, go back to sleep." John said placing a kiss on Sherlock's forehead, then leaving the room.

It was early morning when Sherlock woke up next. He stretched his long limbs and was puzzled when he didn't feel John beside him. He hopped out of bed and was opening the bedroom door when he saw John walking down the stairs rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

John paused when he saw Sherlock in the doorway.

"I was just coming to check on you. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Never better; How come you didn't come to bed last night?"

"You were sleeping soundly and I didn't want to disturb you. I figured my old room would be more comfortable than sleeping on the couch."

"Ah. It was…..disconcerting to wake up without you there." Sherlock said hesitantly.

John smiled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek.

"Lord knows I didn't sleep well last night."

"Oh?"

"The bed was too cold and it was weird not to feel as if I'm being pushed off the bed by long limbs." John chuckled.

"Sorry about that."

"Its fine, lets me know you're there. Now if you're hungry I thought I'd make us some breakfast."

"I'd like that." Sherlock said slipping his hand into John's.

**xXx**

**So I have a confession to make, I was watching the Hobbit when I wrote this and Frankie compelled me to include the game of riddles.**

**I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter. If you don't want, it's ok. See you next Thursday.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello dearies. I'm posting a day early because my home internet is down and this is the only time I'm guaranteed wifi. I want to thank all my lovely reviewers from the last chapter: SeverusDmitri18, Lady Tarja Scythe, KL08, and Maeli. **

**This is the second to last chapter before we start the events of Reichenbach, so bust out the tissues and I will take no offence if you want to say you hate me for making you feel the way you surely will.**

**I should warn you it starts out smutty and ends painfully. When I finished writing this I said to myself "I'm a horrible person."**

**Also if you haven't noticed already the smutty portions of this story heavily reflect my own kinks. I don't claim to be part of the BDSM lifestyle, so I'm sorry if I offend some of you.**

**Ok I'm rambling, I'll just let you see what I mean.**

**********Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, that credit goes to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and the man who originally created Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Without them this story would not exist.**  
**

**xXx**

Greg and Mycroft had spent the evening in at Mycroft's flat. They had been watching a movie, but it was mostly ignored because Greg had been placing kisses to Mycroft's neck and jaw, thoroughly frustrating the redhead.

Finally giving up trying to figure out what Kirk was communicating to the bridge of the Enterprise, Mycroft lifted Greg's chin and kissed him hungrily.

Greg smiled into the kiss and repositioned himself to stradling his partner's hips. Greg's hands were roaming all over My's chest. Several minutes of heavy snogging later the two men broke apart panting.

Greg looked into Mycroft's eyes, seeing them blown wide from lust.

"Bed?" Greg breathed out.

"Yes" Mycroft breathed back. Greg climbed off Mycroft's lap and pulled him up off the couch. Mycroft pulled Greg close and kissed him with bruising force. Greg gripped Mycroft's waistcoat tightly and started walking backwards out of the room and into the hall, pulling the taller man with him.

They stumbled down the hall not pulling away from the other for more than a few seconds. Clothing started littering the path in their hasty retreat for the bed. By the time the back of Greg's legs hit the bed, they were both stripped down to their underwear, Greg's grey cotton boxers a start contrast to Mycroft's emerald silk briefs.

Still kissing Mycroft tried to push Greg down onto the bed, but the older man wouldn't budge. Greg yanked on Mycroft's hair, pulling the taller man's head away from his.

"No, not this time."

Mycroft's breath hitched and his eyes grew wide with excitement. Greg turned them around and pushed Mycroft down to the bed. Greg climbed on top of Mycroft; He grabbed My's hands and pinned them above his head.

Greg bent down and licked Mycroft's ear before whispering seductively "Your always in control, tonight it's my turn."

When My didn't answer Greg pulled back and asked, half demanded,"Well?"

"Anything you want Detective Inspector."

Greg kissed Mycroft dragging the redhead's lower lip between his teeth and rutting down. He kissed My for a minute before getting up, causing the redhead to whine.

Greg smirked and walked into Mycroft's closet coming out a few moments later with a black winter scarf. Mycroft was confused until Greg was tying his hands together and tethering it to the headboard.

Mycroft lightly tugged on his binds, testing them. He could easily slip them but where would the fun be in that? Greg climbed back atop the redhead and kissed him deeply, Mycroft lamenting that one of his cashmere scarves was going to get destroyed.

My was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a sharp slap on his thigh.

"Stop thinking or I'll leave you here. Besides it's not like I grabbed your favorite tie." Greg said matter of factly before trailing kisses down Mycroft's neck, nipping the skin lightly so as not to leave any marks.

"How do you know which tie is my favorite?" Mycroft challenged.

"Dark blue with little yellow umbrellas." Greg replied before biting down on Mycroft's collarbone.

Mycroft was going to make a smartass comment but Greg was now licking and sucking on the area he just bit and it felt so good the politician couldn't help but moan.

"Now are you going to be a good little cock slut or am I going to have to punish you?"

"I wouldn't be adverse to a little punishment my dear Inspector."

"That's Detective Inspector to you." Greg said into My's ear before pulling the lobe between his teeth and grinding his hips down into Mycroft's, needing some friction for his achingly hard cock.

A dirty moan escaped Mycroft's lips and he tugged at his binds, wanting to touch Greg and put a stop to this teasing torture. He seriously thought about slipping the binds but then Greg was whispering in his ear.

"Just let go My, you don't always have to be in control" Greg pulled Mycroft's pants off, tossing them to the floor, and wrapped a calloused hand around Mycroft's rock hard erection.

He stroked it slowly, thumb running against the leaking head as he kissed the tied up politician hungrily.

Mycroft was moaning into Greg's mouth and squirming beneath the older man's touch. It was great but not quite what the redhead wanted.

"Gregory, please" Mycroft mumbled against the detective's lips.

"Please what? You have to use your words for me to know what you want?"

"Please Gregory I need you inside of me." Mycroft whined.

"Hmm I don't know, you have been a bit unruly." Greg said sucking lightly on Mycroft's neck, the red head arching it to the side under his lips.

"Please Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm begging you." Mycroft pleaded needily.

Greg smirked against Mycroft's neck nipping the skin lightly before removing his boxers and grabbing the lube from the bedside table.

Greg flicked the cap open and quickly slathered up his fingers, dropping the bottle on the bed. He spread Mycroft's legs and plunged his first finger knuckle deep into the man's puckered hole.

Mycroft moaned at the pleasure shooting through his body. Greg withdrew the finger and added a second when plunged back in. He was pumping his fingers in and out of Mycroft, scissoring to stretch the politician wider. Greg add a third finger and was breathing rapidly, his patience dissolving over the moans of pleasure Mycroft was making, arching into Greg's touch.

"Gregory please, I need you in me now."Mycroft begged. Greg complied removing his fingers and liberally applying lube to his aching cock.

Mycroft watched Greg with undisguised lust as the other man positioned himself between his legs, hooking them over his shoulders. He guided his erection to Mycroft's dilated hole, barely pausing before plunging in.

Greg groaned when he was sheathed in Mycroft's tight heat. He took a moment for both of them to adjust to the sensations, but Mycroft's needy whine compelled him to pull out and start thrusting at a moderately fast pace.

Mycroft couldn't help but moan in pleasure as Greg thrusted into him.  
Greg leaned down, still thrusting, and licked the shell of Mycroft's ear.

"Tell me how it feels My. Does it feel good?" He whispered breathily.

Mycroft moaned out "It f-feels so good."

Greg hummed against Mycroft's ear and kissed down his jaw to his lips, capturing them in a sloppy kiss. He reached down wrapped his fingers around Mycroft's cock and started pumping in time with his thrusts.

Mycroft moaned arching upward, trying to meet Greg's thrusts, and he could feeling his orgasm building in his stomach.

"Greg-ry, I-I'm so….so close" Mycroft moaned out against Greg's lips.

"I know My. Come for me….Come for me My." Gregory whispered breathily against Mycroft's lips.

Mycroft kissed Greg and a few moments later was coming with a shout all over his stomach and partner's hand. Greg continued to slowly stroke My's cock, milking out his orgasm.

It wasn't long after that, that Greg's own came crashing through him and he was spilling into Mycroft.

Greg was panting when he came down and gently pulling out of Mycroft. He got up and walked to the master bath, coming out a moment later with a slightly damp towel. He walked back to the bed and proceeded to clean Mycroft and himself up.

When done he tossed the towel on the floor and untied Mycroft, collapsing on the bed next to the redhead. Mycroft curled into Greg and placed a few kisses to the greying man's jaw. He nuzzled into Greg's neck, sighing contentedly, "I love you Gregory."

Greg instantly tensed at Mycroft's whisper and Mycroft felt it, silently cursing himself. He knew Greg was guarded because of the hell his ex wife had put him through, but he wasn't going to take the words back.

"You don't have to say it back, I just had to say it." Mycroft said softly, putting some space between them. When Greg didn't answer, Mycroft pulled the covers over them and turned over his back to the other man.

_Shit, _thought Greg, he propped himself up on his side and reached out to Mycroft, stroking his arm.

"My, I'm sorry. It's not that I don't care for you, I truly do. But you know after what Amanda did I'm hesitant to share myself with anyone. I know you would never hurt me like that, but I'm just not ready. I hope you can understand that."

When Mycroft didn't answer Greg leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"I really do care for you darling, just remember that. Please give me time." He whispered before laying back down, staring at the ceiling.

_Way to go Lestrade. You've fucked up another relationship._

Mycroft continued to lay with his back to Greg. He wished he'd never let those words slip. He couldn't help but think that he had pushed Greg too far and was going to lose him. He wanted to cry because he ruined a perfect night, but didn't, not wanting to show Greg how truly hurt he was.

They both drifted off into uneasy sleep, thoughts on how they screwed up the relationship.

Greg woke the next morning in bed alone. He was sad that Mycroft hadn't woke him when he left.

_Way to ruin the best relationship you've had in years Lestrade. This is a new level even for you._ Greg thought bitterly as he got up and dressed, locking the door as he left the flat.

**xXx**

**I know I'm horrible, you can let me know just how horrible I am, I won't be offended.**

**PS: My internet issues should be resolved by Monday, so I will resume my normal posting then.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hello Dears, I see you all survived the last chapter. Just a reminder this is the last purely happy chapter, because Reichenbach starts next week. Break out the tissues and be ready to hate me, my Gatiss tendencies had nothing to stop them. **

**I'd like to say thank you to HarnGin, snicklelickinboot, SpencerReidFan89, LastTimelordChild, and AllThatIWant for your reviews. I love hearing what you all think, and it keeps me writing.**

**************Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, that credit goes to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and the man who originally created Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Without them this story would not exist.

**xXx**

Sherlock was stretched out on the couch with nothing but a sheet draped over his lower half. He was bored but it was too hot to do any of his experiments. It was an unusually warm summer day that had 221B unbearably hot.

Sherlock was detailing all the reasons he hated the heat and storing them in a weather related room in his mind palace, when he heard the door close and John swearing as he stripped his light jacket off.

"Sherlock, did you even think to open the windows?" John asked as he crossed the room to throw the windows open.

"Like it would make a difference" Sherlock said petulantly.

"You'd be surprised at the difference a breeze could make" John replied.

Sherlock happened to look up at John just as the short blonde was stripping off his shirt and wiping the sweat off his forehead. Sherlock made a note in his mind palace that when it was hot John didn't wear a shirt and stored it in a suite dedicated to all things John. Sherlock licked his lips subconsciously, watching the former army doctor disappear into the kitchen before coming out a few moments later sucking on a popsicle.

John smirked when he looked over at Sherlock who was watching him intently. He licked the popsicle slowly to gage Sherlock's reaction, noting how the genius' eyes went wide and licked his lips. John sucked on the tip of the frozen treat which elicited an involuntary shiver in Sherlock.

John continued to stand there and eat the popsicle seductively as his own revenge to coming home to find Sherlock completely naked save a sheet that barely covered his lower half.

A few moments later Sherlock let out a strangled "John."

John's smirk grew and he looked over to Sherlock licking the popsicle one last time before asking "Yes Sherlock?"

"Please tell me you're doing that on purpose" Sherlock whined.

"Whatever do you mean?" John asked feigning innocence, sucking on the popsicle once more.

"Jaaawwwn" Sherlock whined, neediness in his tone. John chuckled, went over to the couch and straddled Sherlock; still sucking on the frozen treat.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, his hands coming to rest on John's hips. This caused John to chuckle again, but he took the popsicle out of his mouth and held it before Sherlock's lips. The genius opened his mouth, wrapping his lips around the red cherry flavored popsicle. John bit his lower lip as he watched Sherlock, his left hand rubbing up and down the genius' chest.

Sherlock saw John's eyes darken with lust and he grinned releasing the popsicle from his lips. John then took the frozen flavored ice away from Sherlock's lips and trailed it down the taller man's chest. Sherlock hissed at the sudden cold, quickly grabbing John's right wrist with the melting popsicle in hand and pulled it away from his chest.

John grinned slyly then lowered his head to Sherlock's chest licking up the sticky red trail the popsicle had left behind. Sherlock moaned and the hand around John's wrist tightened causing the blonde to drop the popsicle on the floor.

John looked at the melting mess on the floor briefly, "Oh pity, I was enjoying that."

He looked back at Sherlock and saw the undisguised lust in the dark haired genius' eyes. He smiled and bent his head down to Sherlock's, capturing his lips with his own.

Sherlock growled and kissed back hungrily, his hand releasing John's in favor of running it over the doctor's toned chest and shoulders. Sherlock's right hand moved up John's neck and into the blonde's hair. He pulled slightly, causing John to gasp and giving him the opportunity to snake his tongue into the other man's mouth.

John ground his hips downward, needing friction against his aching cock. Sherlock broke away from John briefly before kissing down the blonde's jaw and biting his neck.

John was panting in Sherlock's ear as the dark haired genius was sucking on his neck. It hadn't taken him long to figure out what turned John on the quickest and biting had been one of those things.

John's hand had wormed its way between them and moved the sheet covering Sherlock to reveal the genius' own rock hard erection already leaking. He wrapped his fingers around the genius' stiff member and started stroking it, twisting slightly at the base and swiping his thumb over the head.

Sherlock moaned and released John's neck, tipping his head back against the couch cushions panting. John was rutting into Sherlock's leg in time with the movements of his hand, but the friction wasn't quite enough.

Sherlock whined when all of a sudden John's hand wasn't wrapped around his aching cock, but soon understood why. He looked down and saw the blonde unbuttoning his jeans, Sherlock quickly helping remove the offending clothing.

His help was rewarded when John took both of their erections in his hand and started stroking them at a moderately fast pace. Sherlock arched up into the touch, his hands scratching down John's back.

Sherlock captured John's lips in a sloppy kiss, already feeling an orgasm building in the pit of his stomach. The blonde doctor knew exactly how to quickly unravel the genius. A few moments later Sherlock was shouting as he came all over his stomach and John's fist.

While riding out the waves of his orgasm, Sherlock hardly noticed John reach his own and slowly stroking their softening cocks to prolong the pleasure.

John kept himself from collapsing on top Sherlock, panting as he pressed his forehead against Sherlock's.

Sherlock tilted his head up and captured John's lips in a lazy kiss. John returned it for a few moments before pulling back slightly, his lips hovering above Sherlock's.

"We should probably get cleaned up."

"Care to join me for a shower?" Sherlock asked a mischievous glint in his eyes.

John groaned because he knew what that shower entailed, but he didn't say no. Instead John got up and kicked his jeans and pants off his legs. He grabbed Sherlock's outstretched hand and pulled the genius up.

Hand in hand the two men hurried down the hall to the bathroom before Mrs. Hudson decided to investigate the noise they had been making earlier.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Here's the events we've all been waiting for and possibly dreading - Reichenbach.**

**Just a warning I skip over quite a bit because I couldn't really add much to the plot and it would've been tedious to just repeat something we've all probably watched.**

**I'll let you read because the game my dears is on!**

**************Disclaimer**: I do not own BBC Sherlock, that credit goes to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and the man who originally created Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Without them this story would not exist.

**xXx**

Mycroft didn't know how he pulled it off but orders were orders. He stood behind a two way mirror as one of his minions told Jim Moriarty he was free to go. A chill went down the politician's spine as the spider of a man sent a smug smile towards the mirror, like he knew Mycroft was watching.

Mycroft quickly tapped out a text to A telling her to make sure surveillance was ready for the consulting criminal and protection on 221B and Gregory's flat was tightened. Every fiber of Mycroft's being was telling him to ignore orders and throw Moriarty in a hole where he would never see sunlight again, but that would be political suicide.

So it was with extreme self-control that Moriarty was able to walk out of the building unscathed. Mycroft was frozen staring at Sherlock's name scratched into every surface, silently praying that he didn't just condemn his whole world to collapse.

**xXx**

"Boffin. Boffin Sherlock Holmes" Sherlock said with disgust.

"Everybody gets one."

"One what?"

"Tabloid nickname. 'Su Bo' 'Nasty Nick' shouldn't worry I'll probably get one soon."

"Page five, column six, first sentence. Why is it always the hat photograph?"

"'Bachelor John Watson.'"

"What kind of a hat is it, anyway?"

"'Bachelor'? What the hell are they implying?" John couldn't believe that was his tabloid nickname.

"Is it a cap? Why's it got two fronts?"

"It's a deerstalker." _Why is he still obsessing over the hat, there are more troubling issues than a stupid hat. "_'Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson.'"

"Stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do throw it?"

"'Confirmed bachelor John Watson'" Yes he was in an exclusive relationship with Sherlock but where were they getting this confirmation? It was good to know that the press hadn't gotten wind of their relationship but with the added attention, they had to be careful.

"Some sort of death Frisbee"

"Okay this is too much. We need to be more careful."

"It's got flaps. Ear flaps. It's an ear hat, John! What do you mean more careful?"

"I mean, this isn't just a deerstalker now. It's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective anymore. You're this far from famous." John couldn't believe Sherlock was missing the point. They kept their relationship between themselves and Mycroft and Greg for a reason.

"Oh it'll pass."

"It better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you." John cared for Sherlock but he didn't want to deal with the homophobic backlash that would accompany the press turning on Sherlock. Yes the world was more open but there were always an astounding number of idiots who liked to press their backwards opinions on others. John had seen what Harry had gone through, still went through, when people found out she's a lesbian and she wasn't in the public eye like they were.

"That really bothers you?"

"What?"

"What people say?"

"Yes."

"It's about me. I don't understand why would it upset you?"

John pursed his lips, frustrated that Sherlock didn't understand that John liked their affairs to be private and that since they were in a relationship what the press said about the genius reflected on him as well. "Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week, stay out of the news."

Sherlock was confused to why John was upset with him. It was an honest question. It didn't dawn on the genius that what they said about him would affect John as well.

**xXx**

John was getting tired of Mycroft's dramatics. He was dragged to a room by two goons with white gloves and booties over their shoes.

"Tradition, John. Our traditions define us." Mycroft said as the door closed behind John.

"So total silence is traditional. You can't even say pass the sugar?"

"Three quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley, it's for the best believe me. We don't want a repeat of 1972. But we can talk in here."

"You read this stuff?" John asked picking up the tabloid on the table, sitting down reading the headline.

"Caught my eye. Saturday, they're doing a big expose."

"I'd love to know where she got her information."

"Someone called Brook. Recognize the name?" Mycroft was hoping that John would use his slightly above average intelligence and see that all this was the start of the end.

"School friend maybe?"

Mycroft laughed, keeping up the pretense of detached older brother. He was sorely disappointed that the former army doctor had missed the subtle hints. Maybe he wasn't as smart as Sherlock gave him credit for. "Of Sherlock's?"

Mycroft decided to go for a more direct approach, he went over to the files he wanted to show John when he called the shorter man to see him.

"But that's not why I asked you here." He handed the former army doctor the first file.

"Who's that?"

"Don't know him?"

"Nope."

"Never seen his face before?"

"Ummm"

"He's taken a flat in Baker Street two doors down from you."

"Hmm, I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbors."

"Not sure you'll want to. Sulejmani; Albanian hit squad, expertly trained killer. Living less than 20 feet from your front door."

"Well it's a great location. Jubilee line's handy."

"John." Mycroft groaned, the man never seemed to control his sass when he was around Mycroft. Sherlock was definitely rubbing off on his partner, in all the bad ways.

"What's it got to do with me?"

"Dyachenkov, Ludmila." Mycroft said instead of answering, handing John the next file.

"Uhh, um. Actually, I think I have seen her."

"Russian killer. She's taken the flat opposite."

"Okay; I'm sensing a pattern here." Mycroft handed over the rest of the files as he continued with trying to convey his message.

"In fact, four top international assassins relocated within spitting distance of 221B. Anything you care to share with me?"

John chuckled. "I'm moving." John said, his tone joking. There was that sass again; it really got on Mycroft's nerves. How could the doctor be so thick and not get what he was trying to communicate.

"It's not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?" The smile wiped off John's face at the insinuation.

"You think this is Moriarty?" Finally the doctor was getting the message; _took him long enough_, thought Mycroft.

"He promised Sherlock he'd come back."

"If this was Moriarty then we'd be dead already."

"If not him then who?"

"Why don't you talk to Sherlock if you're so concerned about him?" Mycroft sighed and reached for his drink instead of answering. "Oh, God. Don't tell me."

"Too much history between us John." _And I screwed up._ "Old scores, resentments."

"Nicked all his Smurfs? Broke his action man?" There was that famous John Watson sass; Mycroft was getting tired of the younger man's antics when he was trying to tell him to protect his little brother from the mistakes he made.

The blonde smiled and cleared his throat. "Finished." He got out of his chair to leave.

"We both know what's coming, John. Moriarty's obsessed. He's sworn to destroy his only rival."

"So you want me to watch out for your little brother because he won't accept your help." Not that John wasn't looking out for Sherlock, but he didn't like the insinuation that Mycroft thought he wasn't.

"If it's not too much trouble." Mycroft silently thanked Dr. Watson for being in his little brother's life. After the shorter man left Mycroft hoped that the former army doctor had truly grasped the gravity of the situation they were all in.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I wanted to do a double update this week because I want us to be right before the fall, instead of drawing it out.**

**In fact I almost forgot today was my update day. My life has gotten so hectic now that I have a full time job, but I never want to forget you my darlings.**

**xXx**

Lestrade had just left and Sherlock hacked the camera feed. John was watching Lestrade and Donovan get into the car from the window.

"Are they deciding?" Sherlock asked without looking up from the computer.

"Deciding?"

"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me?"

"You think?"

"Standard procedure."

"Should've gone with them people will think…"

"I don't care what people think."

"You'd care if they thought you were stupid or wrong."

"No, that would just make them stupid or wrong."

"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you're…"

"That I am what?" Sherlock asked looking up from the computer.

"A fraud."

"You're worried they're right." Sherlock saw the worry in John's face and it frightened him.

"What?"

"You're worried they're right about me."

"No."

"That's why you're so upset. You've got to entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well." Sherlock hated Moriarty for doing this, for making his John question everything.

"No, I'm not."

"Moriarty is playing with your mind, too. Can't you see what's going on?!" Sherlock yelled, hoping it would stop John from lying to him about the doubts. Not John too, not his John. The consulting criminal would pay for making his John doubt him.

"No I know you're for real" John replied calmly.

"100%?" Sherlock asked not believing the blonde, but not wanting it to show.

"Nobody can fake being such an annoying dick all the time." Sherlock let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He knew John had put it that way to show Sherlock that he never doubted the genius. Sherlock sat back in the chair and looked at the camera he found in the bookcase.

He smirked at the small camera; He didn't think John realized that where it had been placed the viewer had a perfect shot of the entire lounge and it had probably been there all week.

Sherlock had to resist the urge to laugh at the shock whoever had been watching got from the activities he and John got up to. His smile grew as his eyes flicked over to the smudge in the fog on the window such activities had created just the other day.

"Sherlock why are you smiling?" John asked curiously.

"No reason in particular" Sherlock replied, schooling his features. As much fun as it would be to watch John's embarrassment, the short blonde was already stressed about the current events involving Moriarty and his eventual arrest, Sherlock didn't want to add another thing to it.

**xXx**

John was stuck on the other side of the fence Sherlock had just jumped over.

"Sherlock wait." John grabbed Sherlock by the coat, turning the taller man around their faces inches apart with metal bars separating them.

"We're going to need to coordinate." Sherlock's lips quirked up for a second then he leaned in the gap between bars and captured John's lips with his own in a quick kiss.

"Sherl, now's not the time" John said against Sherlock's lips but still kissing back.

Sherlock pulled away and looked between John and their handcuffed hands.

"Go to your right."

"Huh?"

"Go to your right" Sherlock said urgently lifting their hands higher and moving them over while intertwining his fingers with John's.

**xXx**

They were sitting in the dark of the reporter's flat, waiting for her to get home, wanting to know what her expose included and who her source was.

Sherlock was antsy, adrenalin still thrumming through his body. As annoying all this was, he'd never felt more alive. He had all this pent up energy and was just sitting there. Sherlock was tapping the fingers of his hand that wasn't handcuffed to John frantically, but that wasn't enough!

The hand that was handcuffed to John started moving, running down his thigh to his knee, brushing John's knee the back of his fingers. Sherlock's consciousness was wandering in his mind palace and wasn't paying attention to what his hand was doing.

Sherlock's left hand was soon on John's knee and sliding up his leg. John had been staring into the dark, when he felt a hand caress his thigh, the backs of fingers brushing against his clothed cock.

_Oh God what is he doing?_

"Sherlock."

Sherlock's hand continued to rub his thigh teasingly, effectively turning John on. John swallowed thickly before trying to get Sherlock's attention again.

"Sherlock" John said a bit more insistently. Sherlock hummed in response his hand still stroking the blonde's thigh.

"Sherlock what are you doing with your hand?"

"Hmm, what?"

"I asked what are you doing with your hand?"

"Nothing John, I'm doing nothing." Sherlock's mind still hadn't quite registered what his hand was doing. John groaned internally because Sherlock was still stroking his thigh and it was getting frustrating.

"Sherlock this is neither the time nor place."

Sherlock crinkled his brow in confusion, _What is John talking about?_ "What John, I'm doing nothing."

_Sod this._ Since Sherlock refused to acknowledge what he was doing to him, John decided to take matters into his own hands and exact revenge on the genius.

He was about to lunge across the sofa and snog the dark haired genius until he was just as hard as John, when he heard high heels clicking in the hall and growing louder.

_For Christ's sake_, John cursed mentally while adjusting himself and crossing his leg to hide his erection.

The key turned in the lock and as the door opened John prayed to God that this would be one of the times he was invisible next to Sherlock.

The lights switched on and Sherlock deciding to be his usual dramatic self said, "Too late to go on the record."

**xXx**

Mycroft's phone rang, he was a little confused when he saw Molly Hooper's number.

"Hello?"

"_Hello Mr. Holmes? I'm sure you don't remember me, but my name's Molly Hooper. I work with your brother Sherlock when he needs use of the lab at St. Bart's."_ Her voice was quiet and a bit unsure, like she was a kid telling her friend's parent about said friend's plan to break the rules.

"Yes Miss Hooper, I remember who you are. What may I ask is this call about? Has Sherlock damaged any equipment?"

"_Oh God no! Nothing like that. I believe he's got into a bit of trouble and he asked for my help. I'm willing to do as he asked but his plan is a bit drastic and as his older brother I'm sure you'd want to know he's fine."_

"Miss Hooper what are you getting at?"

"_Well I don't know all the details, but Sherlock plans to fake his death by jumping off St. Bart's."_

"Tell me everything." Mycroft said urgently into the phone.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Here it is The Fall. Break out the tissues and grab your shock blankets.**

**Just a quick warning I divert a little from the actual happenings of Reichenbach, but hey it's called an AU for a reason.**

**xXx**

Sherlock started laughing from where he was standing on the ledge.

"What? What is it? What did I miss?" Moriarty asked demandingly, he didn't like when his play things laughed at him. Sherlock hopped off the ledge back on to the safety of the roof and started walking towards the mad Irishman.

"You're not going to do it. So the killers can be called off. Then there's a recall code or a word or a number." Sherlock circled Jim. "I don't have to die, if I've got you." Sherlock said half singing the end of the sentence.

"Oh." Moriarty laughed at the absurdity of the notion. "You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"

"Yes. So do you."

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the king's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."

"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember?" Sherlock said invading Moriarty's space. "I am you, prepared to do anything, prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you."

"No, you talk big; nah you're ordinary. You're ordinary; you're on the side of the angels."

"I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I'm one of them."

The mad Irishman studied Sherlock's determined expression, seeing the answer in the cold blue eyes. "No. You're not."

Moriarty blinked, overwhelming emotions bubbling to the surface. _Finally someone worthy of my attention. He did not disappoint._

A smile broke out on his face. "I see. You're not ordinary, no. You're me." A gleeful gasp escaped Jim. "You're me. Thank you."

"Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty held out his hand to the taller man, knowing he was beaten. There was one more thing the mad man could do to win and he wasn't afraid to do it.

Sherlock took his nemesis' hand, not wanting to be unsportmansly. He was surprised when Jim placed a soft kiss to his cheek while he shook his rival's hand, but he didn't let it show.

"Thank you." Moriarty was nodding his head. "Bless you" he whispered reverently. "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out. Well good luck with that."

Sherlock was confused by these words. Why would he need luck, he had won. He soon got his answer when Jim Moriarty swiftly pulled a gun out of his coat, shoved it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

"No." Sherlock said a bit too late, pulling back and wrenching his hand out of Moriarty's grip. Seeing his now dead rival on the ground, blood pouring from the bullet wound in his head, Sherlock's mind was reeling.

Sherlock honestly thought he could have avoided this; he had Moriarty right where he wanted him, but he didn't expect the Irishman to stick that gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. It showed Sherlock how truly insane the consulting criminal was. Now he had no other choice, he looked around the roof hoping that this was all a dream, that he would wake up in 221B next to John; that he wouldn't have to make the phone call that was going to break his heart.

He stepped up on the ledge just as John's taxi had arrived. Sherlock pulled out his phone and quickly dialed his partner's number.

"_Hello?"_

"John"

"_Hey Sherlock you okay?"_

"Turn around and walk back to where you came from."

"_No I'm coming in."_

"JUST DO AS I ASK! Please." The desperation in Sherlock's voice made John reverse his direction.

"_Where?"_

"Stop there."

"_Sherlock?"_

"Okay look up, I'm on the rooftop."

"_Oh God."_

"I-I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this."

"_What's going on?"_

"An apology; it's all true."

_"What?"_

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"_Why are you saying this?"_

"I'm a fake."

"_Sherlock."_

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade. I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

"_Okay, Sherlock, shut up. Shut up. The first time we met….the first time we met you knew all about my sister, right?" _

"Nobody could be that clever."

"_You could."_

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's a trick, just a magic trick."

"_No. Stop it now!" _ John started walking towards the building intent on dragging Sherlock off that roof.

"No, stay exactly where you are! Don't move."

John backed up to his previous position hand that wasn't holding his mobile to his ear up in compliance.

"_Alright."_

"Keep your eyes fixed on me! Please will you do this for me?"

"_Do what?"_

"This phone call, um… it's my note. It's what people do don't they? Leave a note?"

"_Leave a note when?" _John was sure he knew the answer but he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe the lies coming from the mouth of the man he loved. He hadn't admitted it until now that he truly did love Sherlock, and now the dark haired genius was trying to convince him that the man he fell in love with was all just an act.

"Goodbye John."

"_No, don't._"

Sherlock paused wanting to tell John that he loved him, but it would be counterproductive to the whole conversation he just had with the blonde. Tears rolling down his face Sherlock lowered the phone and tossed it on the roof. Hoping Molly remembered the signal and was still listening in; Sherlock spread his arms and stepped off the roof.

John couldn't believe his eyes. Sherlock had walked off the roof onto thin air; he had seen his partner fall. His feet carried him forward hoping that Sherlock was just pulling one of his stunts and had landed safely or was hanging in the air by wires behind the building blocking John's view. He rounded the corner and was knocked to the ground by a biker.

A bit dazed John got up and continued his progress to a crowd that had started to form where Sherlock would have landed. He whispered the genius' name like a prayer, hoping the people were surrounding a very convincing dummy.

A few of the bystanders tried to keep John back but he pushed through telling them "I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through please. No he's my friend, please. He's my friend please."

He finally made it to the body and was able to grab the wrist. John went cold and felt the world spinning when he didn't feel a pulse right before a woman pulled his hand away. It was even worse when the paramedics turned the body over revealing Sherlock's injured face covered in blood. John's feet gave way under him as they placed Sherlock on the stretcher. The former army doctor didn't meet the cold pavement because a dear bystander kept him upright and slowly guided him to a sitting position.

He couldn't believe it, Sherlock was dead.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** **Another chapter for you my darlings because I love you all too much to keep you hanging. **

**xXx**

Sherlock was on the stretcher covered in the blood he had Molly draw from him earlier, trying to keep still until he was out of John's sight. He was confused for a few seconds when the stretcher stopped around the corner next to a black car instead of going into the building.

"Are you going to get in or are you going to keep up this dead body charade and have them put you in the trunk." A voice asked from the direction of the car.

Sherlock scowled and slid off the stretcher, climbing into the back of the black vehicle. He closed the door and glared at Mycroft. Mycroft silently handed him a towel, a cold look in his eyes. They rode in silence to an underground bunker Mycroft used when there was a serious threat on his life. Once they were safely inside, Mycroft turned on Sherlock.

"YOU STUPID SELFISH CHILD! DID YOU EVEN THINK THIS THROUGH? I had to find out about your plan from Miss Hooper. She had the good judgment to call right before you went up on that roof. Did you even think of how this would affect me, how it would affect _John_?"

Sherlock flinched, "I did this to protect them." Sherlock said timidly, he had never seen his older this mad before. It reminded Sherlock of the rage Sherringford would exhibit when one of his childhood experiments would make a mess. It took all of Sherlock's strength to keep from cowering in fear in anticipation of the beating this sort of anger accompanied.

My saw the fear in Sherlock's eyes and put a lid on his anger. He had never been on the receiving end of their father's abuse and he greatly lamented that he hadn't been able to protect Sherlock more; My was only glad that Sherringford had died of a heart attack when Sherlock was 7, three years before Mycroft had left for Oxford.

"Who were you trying to protect Sherly?" Mycroft asked softly.

"John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. My he had assassins after all of them and the only way I could stop them was to jump off St. Bart's. Obviously I didn't want to do it, but there was no other way. That's why I came up with my plan and had Molly help me. I didn't want to die and there was no other way, you have to believe me." Sherlock pleaded.

Mycroft did the last thing Sherlock expected after hearing his pleas.

My dropped his umbrella, stepped forward and pulled his baby brother into a tight hug. Sherlock had stiffened when Mycroft dropped his umbrella, expecting to be hit. He didn't relax until he heard My whisper in his ear.

"It's alright Sherly, you did the right thing to save the people you love. I would have been very disappointed in you if you had let them die."

Mycroft didn't expect Sherlock to hug him back, but was pleasantly surprised when his little brother's arms wrapped around his waist. A few moments later My felt Sherlock's arms drop and he followed suit, taking a step back.

"What do you plan to do now that the world thinks you're dead?"

"I thought it was obvious, I'm going to take down Moriarty's web." Sherlock stated, some of his usual arrogance coloring his tone.

Mycroft nodded, "I'll help you anyway I can."

Sherlock turned to leave but paused. "Can you pay the rent for 221B while I'm gone? I don't want John to be homeless and I rather like the flat. It would be a shame for Mrs. Hudson to rent it out to someone else."

"Of course" Mycroft pursed his lips, "You really do love him."

Sherlock paused again and looked at the floor. "Yeah I do."

"Then try to finish this as soon as you can. He's bound to miss you."

"I will, I'll get in contact if I need anything." With that Sherlock left the room.

"I'll miss you too little brother." Mycroft whispered.

**xXx**

Sally Donovan felt cold as she walked to Lestrade's office; it was news she didn't want to give, but if Anderson did it they'd have a murder on their hands. She knocked on the door and hoped he had slipped out again.

"Come in" Greg said from his desk.

Donovan walked in regret on her face. She closed the door behind her.

"Boss I have some news."

"Oh did we find Sherlock?"

Donovan bit her lip, "In a way." She paused and took a deep breath. "Greg I don't know how to tell you this but I'll just come out and say it. The fr- Sherlock jumped off the roof of St. Bart's."

Greg blanched, "Is he- is he…."

"He's dead Greg. Dr. Watson witnessed the whole thing and was able to get to the body before medics took it away, there was no pulse."

Greg took an unsteady breath, "Ha-has anyone informed Mycroft of this?"

"Not yet, I thought you'd like to be the one to tell him."

Greg nodded numbly, his mind racing. Sherlock was dead; he'd taken his own life. How was he going to tell Mycroft? He'd want to get more details from John before Greg told his partner that his only brother was dead. _OH GOD John!_ How was the blonde ex-army doctor taking seeing his partner jump off a building?

Greg stood up suddenly, "Where's John?"

"He's in the conference room" Sally said, "Boss; I have to tell you, it was Anderson's idea to go around you. I was content to follow your lead on how to handle the situation."

Greg stopped his quick movements to the door at Donovan's words and looked at her.

"I never thought the fre-Sherlock would do this sort of thing. I always said we'd be standing around a body and he'd be the one to put it there, I just didn't think the body would be his own."

Greg saw the remorse in Donovan's face; he squeezed her arm comfortingly before heading out of his office and to the conference room to check on his best friend.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: So this is going to be almost as painful, if not more so than The Fall. So it's time once again to break out the tissues and the shock blankets.**

**xXx**

Greg parked in front of the Diogenes Club, knowing from A that Mycroft was in the room they kept for his meetings. He got out of the car and froze on the sidewalk looking at the doors. Greg would give anything not to give this news but it had to be done.

He walked in and went straight for the back office, knowing where to go from picking up his partner a few times. He peeked in without knocking hoping Mycroft was busy, hoping to delay this grim task he had.

"Gregory hello" Mycroft said awkwardly. It was partly because he knew why Greg was there, but also because there had been an underlying tension between them since Mycroft had said I love you.

Greg stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

"Mycroft I really don't want to be the one to tell you this, but it's something you need to know and I really think you should be sitting when I tell you it."

"Alright." Mycroft walked over to a sofa and sat down. He gestured to the empty space next to him; Greg didn't miss a beat and sat down next to his partner.

"This is difficult and I can hardly believe it but it happened. It's devastating and I wish it weren't true but it is, and I can't do anything to change it. It's going to break your heart and I wish I could spare you this but it's better for you to hear it from me than read it in the papers." Greg had started out calm, but the emotions he had buried at Scotland Yard were bubbling to the surface and he no longer had control. Tears were threatening to spill over and the words were getting harder to say.

"Gregory dear, what's wrong? What happened?" Mycroft asked worried. He'd never seen his partner so emotional.

"My, Sher-Sherlock's dead." Greg choked out, the first few tears falling down his face. "He's dead and it's all my fault. He jumped off the roof of St. Bart's because he thought I thought he was a fraud. But I don't think he's a fraud, and I didn't tell him for fear of being taken off of the case. I kept silent because I knew if I voiced my belief in him, my captain would have removed me from the case and then who would've defended him? Anderson would have delighted in building a case against Sherlock, Donovan would've reached the truth eventually but only after his reputation was tarnished and everyone firmly believed he was guilty. I was silent and he's dead because of it. You should hate me. I killed your baby brother."

It had been like a dam breaking, once Greg had gotten the initial news out he couldn't stop. He conveyed everything to Mycroft between sobs, tears streaming down his face.

"Gregory. Dear. It's. Not. Your. Fault." Mycroft said cupping the crying man's face and directed his tear filled gaze to his own. The sad look in Mycroft's eyes made Greg feel even guiltier.

"But it is and you should hate me." Greg sobbed out, trying to divert his gaze from the overwhelming guilt he felt.

"Gregory, I could _never_ hate you." Mycroft paused for a second to make sure his words were registering with his crying partner.

"I could _never_ hate you because I am bound to you."

Mycroft's words sunk in with Greg and the wall he'd been clinging to finally fell.

"I love you Mycroft."

Mycroft took a sharp breath. Of everything that he had expected to hear today that was the furthest from his mind. He quickly pulled Greg into a tight hug, and whispered into his ear "I love you too Gregory" his voice thick with emotion.

Greg clung to Mycroft and continued to sob into his lover's shoulder.

My let Greg's tears soak his shoulder while he rubbed his back soothingly. Mycroft shed a few tears of his own, because of how torn up and guilty Greg felt. He could dispel the grief by telling his partner the truth, and came close to doing it after each heart wrenching _I'm so sorry_. But what stopped Mycroft every time was that Greg's ignorance of Sherlock being alive is what kept him safe.

All Mycroft could do was comfort the man he loved the best he could against guilt he didn't deserve.

Greg finally quieted down, his eyes unable to produce any more tears.

He pulled away from Mycroft enough to look him in the eyes but still in his arms.

"I-I am truly sorry about Sherlock." Greg started slowly. "He was the friend, brother, and son that I never asked for, but wouldn't replace for the world, and now he's gone."

"Shh Gregory" Mycroft said softly when it looked like Greg was going to start crying again. "Love, look at me." Greg looked at My, guilt still in his eyes. "I don't blame you. You did what you thought was best for Sherlock. He needed someone on his side to clear his name, and you couldn't have done that if you had spoken up. If you're looking for a reason to why Sherlock jumped, look no further than Moriarty. That man is manipulative and must have convinced Sherlock to jump."

Greg stared at Mycroft, not wanting to believe him, but the detective knew his love was right.

"You're right I suppose." Greg said sadly.

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

Greg let out a short laugh.

"I'm glad it was you who told me." Mycroft said softly cupping Greg's face, wiping the remnants of tears away with his thumbs. "I love you, you know that."

"Don't know why. I don't deserve you." Greg had tried for a mocking tone, but his words were serious.

"Don't say that. Of course you deserve me."

Greg's lips curled in a sad smile. "I love you My."

Mycroft returned the sad smile and pulled Greg's face to his own, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

Greg pulled away sighing a few moments later. The guilt was no longer overwhelming but changed from blaming himself for Sherlock's death to lamenting that he couldn't have done more to prevent it.

"I'm going to miss him, My."

"I know love. I'm going to miss him too."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I know darlings this chapter is short, but I couldn't add anymore to it and it didn't really feel right connected with any other events.**

It was just over a month since the fall. Between John and Mrs. Hudson's _I Believe in Sherlock_ campaign and Greg and Mycroft's investigations, the name of Sherlock Holmes had been cleared. They had finally proven to the world that James Moriarty was indeed an insane criminal mastermind instead of a down on his luck actor. After the story had hit the papers, John had removed himself from 221B to avoid the press swarm that would descend on the flat.

The day before John had promised to visit Sherlock's grave Mycroft had informed him that he was suing Kitty Riley for libel. John had been ambiguous to this news, no amount of money would bring Sherlock back but at least the world knew about the lies the vile reporter had spread.

There were people out there that still believed Sherlock was a fraud, contrary to the overwhelming evidence that said different. Those people commented on John's blog daily trying to convince him that he was wrong about Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson was walking away to give John some time on his own with the gravestone. He just stood there, the words his therapist had said weeks ago running through his head.

_"You need to get it out"_

_"The stuff that you wanted to say, but didn't say it. Say it now."_

John had refused to say these things then, Sherlock's death was still too fresh in his mind. These days John was having nightmares that all ended with Sherlock jumping off of St. Bart's roof and him waking up screaming, but he refused to see his therapist again because she would want him to move on and moving on meant letting go of Sherlock. John refused to let go of the man he loved, but he had to try something. In hopes that it would help the nightmares end, John turned to the headstone to speak out loud some of the things he bottled to himself.

"Umm, mmm You…You told me once that you weren't a hero. Um, there were times where I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this. You were the best man and the most human…human being that I've ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. That's so. There." John moved forward and touched his hand to the gravestone. "I was so alone, and I owe you so much."

John started walking away from the gravestone to find Mrs. Hudson, but he stopped and looked back at the gravestone; he had to let out one last thing.

"Now, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be…..Dead." John said barely choking out the last word. "Would you do that just for me? Just stop it, stop this."

John sniffed back the tears threatening to spill over. He rubbed his eyes and gathered himself. Standing to attention, John gave a short nod to the gravestone and turned on his heel, marching to where Mrs. Hudson was waiting for him.

Several feet away, hidden amongst some trees, Sherlock pressed his hand to the ear bud receiver that was connected to the bug at his grave. He watched John's progress away from his gravestone. Sherlock wanted to run up to the little blonde, pull him into an embrace and never let go; but there was still a fair bit of Moriarty's web Sherlock had to take down. All he could do was whisper to the wind; half hoping it would carry his promise to his love.

"I will John."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hello Darlings. This is where we completely divert from the storyline and everything is my own (only because series 3 still isn't out yet).**

**Just to clarify I only had Sherlock gone for a year instead of 3.**

**Have fun reading, you all are probably going to hate me, but I can take it.**

**xXx**

John had been drinking for hours, a common pastime since the fall, when Greg found him slumped against the bar.

Greg was worried about John. The bartender had his number memorized due to how many times he had to come pick up the former army doctor in the past 9 months.

Greg sighed, he'd much rather be at home with Mycroft but he couldn't abandon his best friend while he was hurting.

"Alright Johnny, let's get you home." Greg said, manhandling John off the barstool. He put some money on the bar and nodded to Mary. She gave Greg a sad smile and grabbed the money as she cleaned up John's drink.

Greg turned and led, half dragging, John out to his car. Just as he went to open the door to the backseat, John moaned and emptied the contents of his stomach all over the pavement. Greg closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. _At least it wasn't in my car this time_

Once John had stopped heaving, Greg picked him up off the ground and laid him on the backseat. He then got into the car and started driving to Baker Street.

"John, you've got to stop this. It's no way to deal with grief and it's taking over your life." Greg paused. "What would Sherlock think?"

John had been trying to tune Greg out. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before, but when he said that name, John cringed.

"Don't say his name." John barked.

Greg was tired of indulging John. His eyes flashed angrily in the rearview mirror. "No John. I've let you behave this way for too long. I'm tired of watching you destroy your life one drink at a time. You're not the only one who lost him. Sherlock is gone, the rest of us have grieved. You are the only one who hasn't moved on."

Greg put the car in park, having arrived at 221B. He turned in his seat and glared at John. "You need to let go John. Move on with your life. Sherlock would not approve."

John glared back at Greg. "Wouldn't approve?" John said in a dangerous whisper.

"Well I don't approve of him jumping off of that bloody building, but he did it anyway." John's voice had risen until he was shouting. John couldn't deal with this conversation; it was tearing new holes in his already broken heart. He quickly climbed out of the car and stomped his way into the flat, slamming doors behind him.

Greg quickly followed John into 221B, almost getting hit in the face more than once by a door.

"John this conversation isn't over. You can't just run away from your problems."

Greg rounded the corner into the lounge, where John had stopped suddenly. He was staring at Sherlock's chair in shock and when Greg looked in the same direction, he gaped in surprise.

There was Sherlock, sitting fiddling with his violin. The dark haired genius looked over to the two men staring at him.

"John, Lestrade."

Greg blinked and looked over at Mycroft who was sitting in John's chair, asking with his eyes if this was real.

Mycroft nodded and got up, smoothing out his suit. He walked over to Greg and held out his hand to his partner.

Greg took Mycroft's hand, taking one glance back at Sherlock – not quite believing him to be real – and left with the redhead.

Mycroft paused once they were outside knowing Greg would want to talk.

Greg let go of Mycroft's hand and started pacing.

"Jesus, he's alive" Greg said, the shock starting to wear off. "But how? John saw him fall, he didn't feel a pulse."

Mycroft opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a question he hadn't been looking forward to.

"Did you know he was alive?"

Mycroft looked away, dreading what would happen when Greg knew the truth. He knew he couldn't keep this from the man he loved any longer and replied with a soft "Yes."

Greg stopped pacing and stood there silently. He had gotten the answer he feared the most. _This explains why he wasn't upset by the news. God_ _what else has he lied to me about._

The silence was killing Mycroft, but he knew not to push. When Greg spoke at last it was quiet.

"I need some time to think."

"Of course."

Greg got into his car and drove home. Mycroft stood there and stared after Greg's car. It took him awhile to realize his driver had pulled up in front of him. He took a deep breath to try and get his unruly emotions under control. My got into the car and was taken back to his empty flat, letting himself hope this was going to be the last time.

**xXx**

John stared blankly until he heard the door shut. He blinked and thought, _this isn't real, it's just my mind playing with me._

Sherlock got up and put his violin away.

"John, I'm real. This isn't a trick of the imagination."

Sherlock was standing in front of John and put a hand on his forearm. John flinched at the touch and took a step back.

"You were dead." The tears John had been avoiding for months were threatening to come forward, making his voice thick with emotion.

Sherlock was hurt when John pulled away, everything was supposed to be fine now that he was back with his John.

"No I wasn't."

"I- but you…..ho-" Breathing was suddenly difficult. John was hyperventilating. Sherlock gripped his upper arms to keep the doctor from falling.

"John, it's okay now." With that John was able to focus and get control of his breathing.

John ripped out of Sherlock's grip and started yelling.

"It is not okay! I thought you were dead, and you think you can waltz back in here like everything is fine. Do you know what you being dead did to me?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. He looked around and took in the many empty alcohol bottles, the realization of how hard John took his _death_ dawning on him.

"John I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't, and I can't do this." John stormed out of the flat and caught a taxi to his sister's; leaving Sherlock standing in the middle of the lounge shell-shocked by how things had gone.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I couldn't leave it at that, I'm not _that_ evil. **

**xXx**

It had been two days since Sherlock had returned to 221B, and Mycroft hadn't heard from Greg. He was starting to worry. My knew he shouldn't push, but he sent Greg a text anyway.

**Want to get a coffee later? – MH**

Greg sighed when he read Mycroft's text and considered ignoring it; however, he realized that would be a mistake, they needed to talk and sooner was better than later.

**Noon, usual place – GL**

Mycroft let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.

**See you there – MH**

**xXx**

Greg walked the few blocks from New Scotland Yard to the café he and Mycroft frequented. Greg took one last drag of the cigarette he'd been smoking and looked in the window. He stubbed it out when he saw Mycroft already sitting inside.

Mycroft looked up as Greg sat down across from him, eyes hopeful. He pushed the coffee he had gotten for Greg towards the other man.

"Thanks" Greg picked it up and sipped his coffee silently, looking out the window. Mycroft just sat looking at Greg, waiting for the other man to start talking.

Greg sighed and looked at Mycroft.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was for your own safety. The more people who knew the more danger you all were in. As it is we've had to have someone with Miss Hooper at all times."

"Wait Molly knew? So her lab assistant boyfriend is really a body guard?"

"Molly only knew because she helped Sherlock pull it off….Well Paul started out as just a bodyguard." A smile crept on Mycroft's face as he thought about the couple. When he had assigned Paul to Molly, he hadn't realized that subconsciously he had been playing matchmaker.

"I see" Greg said flatly. "Mycroft what else have you lied to me about?" Greg kept his emotions under control. _No use causing a scene._ The fact that Mycroft had hidden things from him reminded him of Amanda and strengthened his resolve.

"Nothing. I don't tell you things because I _can't_. I thought you knew that. I have to be secretive for the sake of national security."

Mycroft kept his panic in check, a man of his political stature couldn't be seen crying desperately in public to keep the man he loves.

Greg pursed his lips. Even though he loved the man sitting across from him, he had to say it before he got hurt even worse.

"I think we should call things off for a bit."

It happened. The words Mycroft had been dreading for the past few days had come from Greg's mouth. He took a deep breath and put forth a calm façade, even though his heart was breaking. _It's what he wants,_ and Mycroft would always give Greg what he wanted.

"I agree."

Greg blinked at the calm, almost cold reply. He cleared his throat.

"Very well then" Greg got up and left the coffee shop, walking back to work. As soon as he was out of sight of the place, he wrapped his arms around his middle as if he was cold; in reality it was to keep himself from falling apart.

Mycroft sat staring at Greg's unfinished coffee for a bit. Finally he stood, paid for the drinks and left. It wasn't until he was at his office alone that he dropped the calm façade and broke down sobbing at his desk.

A peaked in to tell Mycroft that the Prime Minister had called while he was out. One look at her boss and she closed the door. Anyone who asked for him, she told them he was in an important meeting.

**xXx**

Mycroft woke up at his desk, his back was aching and his head was pounding. He didn't remember falling asleep, but then again, he didn't want to remember that afternoon.

He sat up and saw a cup of water and two aspirin not far from where his head had been laying. He dutifully popped the pills and drank the water, knowing if he didn't A would let him have it.

Mycroft wondered how much time he wasted sleeping as he powered up his computer and checked his email. A came in a few moments later with a cup of coffee and stack of files. She set them down on the desk and gave Mycroft's forearm a gentle squeeze accompanied with a sad smile before leaving.

Mycroft stopped typing, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before throwing himself into his work, the only thing that kept the despair from crushing him.

**xXx**

Greg had been staring at the same crime scene photos for hours. Agitated he shrugged on his jacket, grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his desk and walked out of his office.

He got to the elevator and stabbed the down button a little harder than he intended. The doors slid open a few seconds later and Greg was about to storm in when he saw Sherlock standing in the elevator.

Greg scowled and entered the elevator hoping Sherlock would get out and leave him alone, but he had no such luck. Sherlock was smart enough to keep quiet during the ride down to the lobby and followed the older man outside.

It wasn't until Greg had lit his cigarette and sucked in a lungful of smoke did he ask why Sherlock was there.

"What do you want Sherlock?" There was a bite in his tone Sherlock wasn't used to and he weighed his answer carefully.

"I came to ask if you had any cases you need any help on."

"Why should I let you help again? Where did it get us the last time, with you faking your death and the rest of us having to clean up your mess and thinking you were dead."

"I'm sorry Greg. Moriarty had assassins watching you, Mrs. Hudson and J-John. He shot himself before I could get him to call them off. Faking my death was the only way to keep you alive. Molly only knew because I needed help and her every move wasn't being watched through a scope. Mycroft would've been kept in the dark as well but Molly took it upon herself to inform him of my plan right before I went up on that roof."

Greg took another drag and exhaled before speaking.

"Fine, but there are going to be some new rules. We are going to clear you with Scotland Yard to work with me and any other DI's that choose to accept your help. Most likely they'll put you on the payroll as a freelance consultant to make it legal. You're going to have to tell me when you're running down leads. If you find any evidence, you hand it over to me and we go through proper channels for you to run your own tests on them. If you plan to include John, he needs to abide by these same rules."

Sherlock had been nodding as Greg listed off his conditions. When the last was said Sherlock looked away, a wounded expression on his face. Greg saw this and wondered what it meant.

"Sherlock is there something wrong with you and John?"

"I haven't heard from him since that night I came back to 221B. I phoned Harry to see if she'd heard from him and she informed me John was staying with her and didn't want anything to do with me."

"I don't blame him. You put that man through hell with faking your death."

Sherlock looked at Greg like a puppy that had just been kicked.

"Sherlock he loves you, and he thought you died. He didn't grieve properly for fear of losing you. You may say that makes no sense, but to him it did. I don't know if he'll forgive you, but for now you have to give him time and space to process this."

Sherlock was quiet, soaking in Greg's advice while the older man continued to smoke. Greg took one last drag and stubbed out the cigarette. He moved to go back into New Scotland Yard but Sherlock placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him.

"You really should forgive Mycroft. It's my fault he didn't tell you I was alive. I had sworn him to secrecy. Other than that he's never lied to you."

Greg was shocked by Sherlock's concern for his older brother.

"He's miserable without you Greg." Sherlock stood up straight and fiddled with the cuffs of his coat. "And if you tell him I said this I will vehemntly deny every word."

With that Sherlock walked off down the street, leaving Greg to reflect on his words.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Ok this is the last chapter for this week. I swear I'm spoiling you all but I couldn't leave things the way they are.**

**xXx**

It had been a few weeks since Sherlock had visited Greg at Scotland Yard. There had been a little trouble in getting Sherlock the ability to officially work for Scotland Yard, but a call from Mycroft later and the young genius was back to working with Greg and his team.

When Greg had broken the news to his team, Donovan had stoicly accepted it. Anderson however flipped out; he loudly demanded to know if it was all an elaborate joke and when Greg told him it wasn't, he turned in his transfer papers.

Life was starting to normalize for Greg since Sherlock's return. He had even been reflecting on what the younger man had told him. It was true that Mycroft had been secretive, but the politician had never outright lied to him. They had been so good together and around Sherlock's return they had been talking about moving in together. Greg knew he couldn't just give up on that.

Greg had just dropped his kids off and climbed back into his car. He turned the vehicle on and music he didn't recognize came through his speakers. He looked down and saw that Lizzie had left her Ipod connected to his sound system. He was about to unplug it and walk it up to the house when the lyrics of the song caught his attention.

_Suddenly the moment's here. I embrace my fears. All that I have been carrying all these years. Do I risk it all? Come this far just to fall? Faaaaaall_

_Oh I can trust. And boy, I believe in us. I am terrified to love for the first time. Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? And finally found my way. I am bound to you. I am, oh I am. I'm bound to you._

The song ended and Greg turned the Ipod off, soaking in what he just heard.

Suddenly he pulled out of the drive way and without truly knowing it drove to the Diogenes Club.

He parked and walked in, going straight to the office they kept for Mycroft's meetings. He sat down on the sofa and paitently waited for My to arrive.

Mycroft walked in, surprised to see Greg, pain showing in his eyes but his face is stoic.

"What are you doing here?" He asked calmly.

"I came to see you"

"About?"

Greg got up and walked over to Mycroft. My's heart was beating fast, his mind was thinking this was just another one of the dreams he'd been having that was only going to hurt when he woke up.

Greg stopped in front of him. The proximity was killing Mycroft, the pain showing through his mask of calm. Greg cupped My's cheek and kissed him softly after a moment of nervous hesitation.

Tears slipped out of the redhead's closed eyes and Greg felt them run over his hands. He pulled away, leaning his forehead against Mycroft's.

"What's wrong My?" he asked confused.

"This is just a dream and will only hurt when I wake up."

"It's not a dream" Greg kisses My again. Mycroft pulled away.

"Why?" he asked brokenly.

"Because I am bound to you" Greg replied, repeating the words that Mycroft used to reassure him after Sherlock's faked suicide.

Mycroft's breath caught in his throat. Greg wiped away the tears My had shed with his thumbs.

"I love you My and I was a fool to break up with you."

"No you weren't. I hid things from you. You felt like you couldn't trust me. How could you stay with someone you don't trust?"

"But that's the thing I do trust you. You may not tell me every detail of your day, but with good reason. I was hurt because you didn't tell me about Sherlock and it reminded me of how Amanda had been about her affairs. I've come to the realization now that you're not her and would never do that to me."

Mycroft bit his lip and nodded. He still had some reservations that Greg would change his mind, but that wasn't going to stop him from being with the man he loves.

"We can take things slow if you want, but I don't plan on going anywhere." Greg said seeing the slight hesitation in Mycroft's eyes.

My smiled for the first time since Sherlock's return.

"Would you like to join me for dinner Gregory dear?"

Greg returned the smile and replied, "I'd be delighted Mycroft darling."

The two men left the building arm in arm, feeling lighter than they had in weeks.

Dinner ended in Greg's bed both men naked and drenched with sweat, their breathing returning to normal. Mycroft curled into Greg and placed a kiss to the older man's neck.

"So much for taking it slow" Greg said with a smile. Mycroft chuckled and Greg kissed him lazily.

"It makes no sense for us to take things slow love."

"I know it's just sometimes better if people re-enter a relationship slowly."

"But not us" Mycroft added with a smile.

"No, not us" Greg amended. He looked down at the redhead wrapped in his arms, realizing just how miserable he had been without him.

"God I missed you" Greg breathed out.

"I missed you too love."

"I love you My and I don't plan on ever leaving you again."

Mycroft couldn't help the smile that split out across his face before replying, "I love you too Gregory."


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: For those of you who haven't seen it already I have written and upload a companion one-shot called Life with the Lestrade-Holmes Family as part of the Summer Mystrade Exchange on Tumblr. At this point it's content is a bit spoilery to the main plot seeing as the person I wrote it for is my unofficial beta/sounding board.**

**Speaking of RBnC, have you seen the lovely cover art she's done for the story. I was so ecstatic when I got the final version and couldn't wait for you all to see it.**

**Lastly we're going back to one chapter a week updates since we've gotten through Reichenbach and the Return. I know I spoiled you all the past couple of weeks, but I couldn't in good conscious draw out Reichenbach any longer than I did.**

**xXx **

It had been a month and a half since Sherlock had returned to 221B; he still hadn't heard from John, but the young genius was taking Greg's advice and giving the little blonde space.

Sherlock was in the flat looking over the reports he had gotten from Greg, the case was perplexing to say the least.

There were 7 victims that were similar, in that they were all terminally ill and were killed in a way that put them out of the agony they dealt with from their illness. These deaths were mercy killings.

But the perplexing part was that there were 6 other victims that were killed in a completely different manner. These 6 were murdered in the most brutal and bloody way Sherlock had seen in awhile. There was a lot of rage behind these murders. In a way the victims had deserved it. Each one had at least a few police reports written up about them involving dropped assault charges and suspected spousal/child abuse.

The two types of murder were completely different but one thing was connecting it all. At each crime scene there was DNA evidence that came from the same person, the murderer.

The case had Greg stumped so he had asked for Sherlock's help, seeing as the genius didn't have any other cases at the moment.

Sherlock was reading a report about the last victim, filed by a nurse, saying she suspected the man of breaking his 7 year old son's arm, when it all connected in Sherlock's mind.

Every last victim had been at the same hospital shortly before their death. Sherlock jumped up and grabbed his coat, swinging it on as he left the flat.

In the cab ride to the hospital, he texted Greg the possible lead as per a condition of working with the Detective Inspector.

Sherlock stalked the halls of the hospital keeping his eyes out for the killer based on the evidence she had left behind and his own deductions. He was prepared for almost anything but what happened next.

Sherlock was walking down a random hallway, not quite keeping track of where he was going, and froze. Coming out of a patient's room was John.

The blonde closed the door and looked up. He froze in place like he saw a ghost. The fear he saw made Sherlock turn to leave, deciding Greg could look for the killer.

"Sherlock wait" John said quickly. This made the genius pause and look back at the blonde.

John was still thinner than before the fall, but it looked like he was starting to take better care of himself. His face was still scruffy but his eyes weren't bloodshot like the last time Sherlock had seen him.

Sherlock let out a breath, glad that his deductions had told him John had stopped drinking. He would never forgive himself for the fact that the pain he put him through caused the former army doctor to drink.

"Hello John" Sherlock said quietly, "You're looking better than the last time I saw you."

"Yeah well Harry threatened to kick me out if I didn't stop and start seeing Ella again." Sherlock nodded and shifted on his feet awkwardly.

"What are you doing here Sherlock? Did Harry tell you where I work?" John asked when Sherlock remained silent.

"No, I'm following a lead on a case Lestrade needed help on."

"So you're able to work cases again?"

Sherlock nodded, "Between Mycroft and Lestrade, I'm consulting the Yard in a more official capacity, in order to avoid something like the last time."

John nodded then looked at his watch. "Listen, I have to finish my rounds, but if you wait another half hour I'll be done with work. I'd like to get a coffee and talk if you're up to it."

Sherlock swallowed thickly, his heart racing at spending some time with John. "I-I'd like that."

John smiled making Sherlock's heart skip a beat. "I'll meet you at the café across the street when my shift is over." John said before walking down the hall away from Sherlock.

Sherlock stood there for a bit, a little surprised by how the chance meeting had gone. The last time he had seen John it was disastrous to say the least. Sherlock had a small feeling of hope that things between them could be fixed as he started to make his way out of the hospital and over to the café John had indicated.

**xXx**

John quickly dashed across the street, his jacket collar turned up to try and keep the pouring rain from sliding down his back. He got to the dry area under the awning and shook his head, flicking most of the rain out of his hair. As he walked inside and saw Sherlock waiting in corner of the shop, he ran a hand through his hair hoping it didn't stick up all over the place.

John sat down opposite Sherlock and shrugged out of his wet coat. There was silence between the two, Sherlock not knowing quite what to say.

"So, what's the case you're working on at the moment?" John asked, finally breaking the silence.

"It was a bit perplexing at first but it's becoming clearer as I investigate. The killer seems to have a multiple personality disorder and chooses different victims based on the different personalities. One type of victim that's chosen is people with a terminal illness. She kills them in ways that are relatively painless and from what I can tell thinks she's sparing them the painful death they're bound to have."

"She? How do you know the killer is a female?"

"Most people who kill for mercy are female and by a DNA sample Lestrade's team collected under one of her other type of victim's finger nails. Which brings me to the other type of victim; they are mostly abusive drunks and she kills them in a bloody manner that makes me think she had an abusive father when she was growing up."

"I'm assuming she left DNA or fingerprint evidence at the other crime scenes, otherwise these murders wouldn't be connected." John mused out loud. How easily he slipped into his role as Sherlock's assistant.

"You'd be correct to assume that." Sherlock replied smiling.

"So what led you to the hospital then?"

"All the victims had been discharged or visited the hospital shortly before their death. Lestrade didn't see it, but it was glaringly obvious when you looked at everything." John couldn't help but smile at Sherlock's statement.

"So you think the killer is one of my coworkers?" John asked.

"Most definitely. You could probably help me narrow down the list of suspects."

"I could try, tell me all you can about your killer."

"She's probably in her late 20s, blonde, about 5'7", approximately 10 ½ stone. She wouldn't be a doctor or nurse having forgone medical school for taking care of a terminally ill mother."

"That sounds like Natalie, but I seriously can't see her as a murderer; She's so sweet, actually she somewhat reminds me of Molly."

"You know just as well as I do that anyone can be a murderer given the right motive. It could be that she blacks out when one of the other personalities take over. People with Dissociative Identity Disorder don't normally know about the other personalities."

"I suppose you're right." John said thoughtfully. He looked at Sherlock a curious expression on his face.

"What is it John?"

"Why didn't you storm off the second I mentioned Natalie?"

"Lestrade made it one of the conditions for me being allowed to work with him again: I'm not allowed to confront suspects on my own."

"And you're actually following his rules?" John asked suspiciously.

"For now" Sherlock replied deadpanned. A few seconds later, both men were laughing. When they calmed down Sherlock asked what he'd been wondering since accepting the invitation.

"What is that you want to talk about? I highly doubt it was to question me on the case I'm working on."

John chewed on his lower lip, "As I said I've been seeing my therapist again and she's helped me. You saw how I was when you came back, so that gives you an idea of how badly yo-your, you know, affected me. Recently Ella has encouraged me to reach out to you, to find out why you did…what you did." When Sherlock didn't answer right away John took a deep breath. "Please Sherlock tell me why did you do it?"

"John I had to. Moriarty had assassins watching you, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. If I didn't jump he would have killed all of you. I couldn't lose you John, so I jumped. I had Molly help me pull it off and the time I was away was spent destroying Moriarty's web. It would've been avoided if that _spider_ hadn't shot himself in the head."

"Why didn't you just tell me you were alive?"

"Could you have acted like I was dead if you knew I was alive?"

"No" John looked away from Sherlock, "I suppose not."

"John I spent every day of my year away, working on getting back to you." Sherlock bit his lip, hesitant to say what he wanted to say next. He finally decided to forgo holding anything back, the last time he did he nearly lost John.

"John I love you."

John turned his head back sharply to see if Sherlock was serious. Seeing the nervousness in the younger man's expression, John took the confession for the truth it was.

"I love you too Sherlock, but you hurt me by faking your death. I can't quite forgive that right now." Sherlock expression had brightened then fell as John continued talking. "That doesn't mean I don't want to try. We're just going to have to take things slow."

"I'll try anything if it means I can be with you."

John smiled and got up, putting on his coat. "I have to get going; I promised Harry I'd be home for dinner with her and Clara."

"They've gotten back together?"

John chuckled, "Yeah, Harry's been sober for a year now and she and Clara got back together about 3 months ago."

"So she threatened kicking you out, because your drinking was testing her resolve." Sherlock said without thinking.

"Yes" John said sadly.

"I'm sorry John; I didn't mean it like that." Sherlock apologized quickly.

"It's fine Sherlock. It happened and I can't change that. I've been sober for about a month now and it's a challenge, as I'm sure you can understand." John sighed. "Seeing Ella helps though."

"I do understand John, that's why I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's alright" John said smiling. "I do have to get going, but I want to see you again."

"How about dinner at Angelo's this Friday?"

"I'd love that." John turned and started walking out of the café. Sherlock stood up and opened his mouth to ask what Natalie's last name was, but was cut off when John called over his shoulder. "Natalie Noone. See you Friday Sherlock."

"See you Friday John" Sherlock said softly, watching through the window as the blonde briskly walked in the direction to the nearest tube station. He sat back down smiling as he texted Greg the information he had gotten from John.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Hi Darlings. Here it is, John and Sherlock's first date at their second try. I'd say something witty, but let's be honest I'm tired so I'll let you read. Enjoy.**

**xXx**

Sherlock was pacing nervously outside Angelo's, John was 10 minutes late. He wondered if the short blonde had changed his mind. Sherlock was put at ease when he came jogging towards him.

"Sorry, I got held up at work. I hope you weren't waiting long." John apologized, slightly out of breath from rushing to get there.

"It wasn't a problem." Sherlock replied smiling.

"Shall we go inside then?" John asked returning the smile. Sherlock nodded and held the door open for the shorter man.

"So why didn't you wait for me inside?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer when Angelo boomed across the restaurant "SHERLOCK!"

"That's why." Sherlock replied quietly. Angelo quickly crossed the room and swept Sherlock into a big hug.

"Sherlock, my friend, I thought you were dead. Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

"Don't worry Angelo, he didn't tell a lot of people he was alive, me included." John piped in. Angelo let go of Sherlock and noticed John next to the tall genius.

"Oh you're on a date, sorry. Take that table over there and order whatever you want, it's on the house." Angelo apologized, pointing to a table near the window.

"Angelo, you need to let us pay every once in awhile. It must cost you a lot of money to let us eat for free." John insisted.

"Nonsense, I still owe Sherlock for keeping me from jail." Angelo replied.

"You still went to jail, just not for murder." Sherlock added. Angelo waved his hand and the two men took it to as a sign that they weren't going to win the argument. They sat down at the table Angelo had indicated, John looking over the menu.

John was still looking at the menu when Sherlock noticed Angelo coming over with a candle and some wine. Sherlock quickly got up and intercepted the man. He hurriedly told him to make sure no alcohol was served near their table. John looked up to find Sherlock gone and swept the room to find him carrying on a hushed conversation with the other man. Seeing the bottle of wine in Angelo's hand, John realized what Sherlock was doing and was grateful.

As Sherlock turned to go back to the table, John looked back down to the menu, pretending to still be deciding what he wanted to eat. He looked up as Sherlock sat down, a soft smile lighting up his face.

"Thank you Sherlock" John decided that he wasn't going to hold anything back. The last time they had tried for a relationship, they kept things to themselves and the end result was devastating and if they were going to try again John didn't want to repeat the mistakes they had already made.

"Anything for you John" Sherlock replied smiling. Angelo was back with some Italian lemonade and a candle. John ordered his food and Sherlock told Angelo to make him whatever. The man removed the menus and left the two alone.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, John not quite wanting to ruin the evening with some of the things he wanted to ask Sherlock and Sherlock content just to be in the company of the man he loves.

"So, I haven't seen Natalie at work lately." John stated, deciding that a case was a safe topic to discuss.

"Ah, yes. Natalie was the person we were looking for. With the DNA evidence she'll be convicted, although if her lawyers prove that she suffers from DID they'll have a strong insanity plea."

"Hmmm" John hummed whiling nodding his head. "So what have you been doing since you got back, was this your first case?"

"No this wasn't my first case; I've worked a few cases with Lestrade and Dimmock even. I haven't worked a private case though."

"How is Greg? I haven't really talked to him since- well since your return."

"He's better now that he and Mycroft are back together" Sherlock stated as their food was placed in front of them.

"Wait they had broken up?" John asked shocked.

"Yes, I suppose it's my fault really. Greg was upset that My didn't tell him I was alive and wondered if My had lied about everything else."

"So what prompted them to get back together?" John asked, a little surprised Sherlock had taken responsibility for something that he normally didn't.

"I decided to fix it and told Greg that My only kept the secret on my insistence."

John sat there staring at Sherlock as he ate like it was no big deal. The blonde man didn't quite know how to process the maturity that Sherlock was displaying. Finally he decided not to point it out to the genius and started eating his own food.

"So have you only been working cases?" John asked between bites of food.

"Yes. I haven't really felt like doing any experiments" Sherlock said setting down his fork. "To be honest, I've been a little lost without you."

John swallowed the food he'd been chewing and set down his own silverware. He bit his lip as he looked at Sherlock, not knowing how to reply to the genius' statement.

"I'm sorry John; I should have told you I was alive. I thought I was protecting you by keeping you in the dark, but I realize that was a mistake. I know you might not forgive me now, but I hope you can eventually."

John was once again taken aback by the level of maturity Sherlock was showing. He was wondering what happened to the genius in the past year that had caused this change.

"Sherlock, I do forgive you."

Sherlock brightened; he hadn't expected John to forgive him so soon. He wondered why but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. They went back to eating in silence, happy just to be with the other after their time apart.

When they were finished, Sherlock decided to ask about something that was bothering him.

"When did you decide to grow a beard?"

John scratched his jaw; when he had run into Sherlock at the hospital it had been scruffier, he had trimmed it earlier in the day to make it more presentable for a date.

"When you were gone I stopped caring about my appearance and well when you stop shaving this is what happens." John replied chuckling. "Honestly I've been thinking about shaving it."

"Oh, that's good." Sherlock said absently. "Not that you don't look good with a beard, it's just…." He added quickly.

John started laughing as Sherlock scrambled to apologize.

"It's alright Sherlock, you don't have to apologize."

Sherlock smiled sheepishly, he felt like he was walking on thin ice. After John walking away from him almost two months earlier, he didn't want to give the blonde a reason to do so again.

The month and a half of not seeing John and not knowing if he'd ever see him again had been torturous. When he wasn't working a case, Sherlock had spent most of the time sitting in his chair staring at John's wishing the former army doctor was there. In his darkest moments Sherlock had even been tempted to call his former dealer, but what stopped him every time was the memory of the look John had given him when the other man first realized Sherlock was a recovering addict.

"You want to go for a walk?" John asked snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts.

"I'd like that." Sherlock replied. John got up and Sherlock followed suit. The former army doctor looked around to make sure Angelo was nowhere in sight. Satisfied he placed down a large tip; the man may insist that their meal was free but John wasn't content unless he left some kind of compensation.

Sherlock smiled at this and followed the short blonde out the door. It was a cool spring evening that was perfect for a walk. John started walking in a random direction, Sherlock easily keeping pace. They didn't pay attention to where they were going and ended up in front of 221 B.

They paused awkwardly outside of the flat, John looking up at the windows, echoes of longing in his expression. He cleared his throat and looked to Sherlock.

"I probably should be going; Harry gets worried when I'm out late." John stated. "She's finally acting like the older sister she is."

"Oh" Sherlock replied a little disappointed. He didn't know how he expected this date to end but he was sad that it was ending so soon.

"I would like to see you again. We could get lunch sometime next week, if that's alright with you."

"I'm not adverse to that" Sherlock replied. John nodded his head and turned to leave but paused. He surprised Sherlock by standing on his tip toes and placing a soft chaste kiss to the genius' lips. Sherlock returned the kiss without thinking, the feel of John's lips against his intoxicating.

John pulled away a few moments later with a smile.

"Goodnight Sherlock." He said before walking away towards the tube station.

"Goodnight John" Sherlock said softly, watching the former army doctor walk away before entering 221 B.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: So this is a chapter you all have been waiting for. You're probably wondering which one I'm talking about, only one way to find out.**

**By the way I finally finished watching Merlin, I am now dead inside.**

**xXx**

Greg woke up to find Mycroft snuggled into his chest. He shifted slightly which caused Mycroft to stir. He smiled and placed a kiss to the redhead's lips when he tilted his head up.

"Morning" Greg said after pulling away.

"Morning" Mycroft replied groggily. "So what are your plans for the day?"

"I made plans to spend the day with the kids. If you're not busy I thought you could finally meet them today."

Mycroft was unsure; he didn't know if they would like him, but he didn't know how to voice this to Greg.

Greg saw Mycroft's hesitation and gave him a quick kiss of reassurance.

"I really want you to meet them and I know they'll love you." Greg pleaded calmly.

"Of course I'll meet them. I just have to make a call to A." Mycroft caved. Greg brightened and kissed his partner.

"Thank you love" Greg said when they pulled apart. He then left the bed to get ready for the day.

**xXx**

They had decided to take one the cars that were under Mycroft's employ because Greg's was too small for the kids and his partner. It pulled up to Greg's former residence and the greying brunette got out of the car.

He knocked on the door and Lizzie who answered. She squealed in delight and crashed into Greg for a hug. He picked her up and returned the hug, as Amanda came into the hall and called up the stairs.

"Thomas, Daniel. Your father's here." The boys came down the stairs quickly and grabbed their coats, their excitement not as evident as Lizzie's but still there.

"Have them back by 7 Greg. We're going to my parent's tomorrow, so they need to be in bed early." Amanda said neutrally.

"I will." Greg said grabbing Lizzie's coat off the rack, still holding the girl because she wouldn't unlatch from his neck. He opened the door and let Daniel and Thomas walk out before walking out himself, closing the door behind him.

"Dad where's your car?" Daniel asked looking around.

"We're meeting Mycroft today Dan, and dad's car isn't big enough for everyone." Thomas answered for his father noticing the tall redhead leaning against a black car parked on the street. Daniel and Lizzie's gaze quickly followed their brother's and Mycroft started fidgeting nervously with his umbrella.

"Why didn't you tell us dad?" Dan asked Greg.

"I wanted it to be a surprise and honestly I didn't want your mother to know until it was too late to change plans." Greg explained.

"Daddy we're being rude just standing here. And could you put me down already?" Lizzie interjected.

"Alright Princess" Greg said chuckling and set Lizzie down. Greg walked down the drive to Mycroft, his children following him.

"My, this is Daniel, Thomas, and Lizzie" He introduced, indicating to each of his children with a pat on the shoulder. "Kids this is Mycroft Holmes."

Daniel was the first to step forward and offer his hand; when Mycroft shook it he said with a smile, "It's nice to meet you sir."

"Please call me Mycroft, Daniel. Sir is too formal." Daniel nodded and stepped back to let his little brother say hello.

"I hear you're practically the British Government" Thomas said shaking Mycroft's hand. Mycroft shot Greg a look that was partially pained embarrassment that his partner had used Sherlock's description of his job. Greg grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders as way of apology.

"I just occupy a minor position." Mycroft said neutrally.

"A minor position wouldn't afford you the power you obviously hold." Thomas replied. It took Mycroft by surprise and he noticed the intelligent glint in Thomas' eye, it reminded him of the same look Sherlock had when he was younger.

Thomas stepped back and Lizzie surprised them all by throwing her arms wide and wrapping them around Mycroft's waist in a hug. Mycroft was surprised the most out of the group, but hugged the little blonde in return.

Greg smiled as he saw Mycroft's expression soften from the shock of the hug.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you" Lizzie said before releasing Mycroft from the hug.

"And I you" Mycroft replied smiling.

"I'm sure you three haven't eaten, so I thought we'd all go out to lunch." Greg said happily. He had only slight reservations that this meeting wouldn't go well but it had been quickly dispelled.

"That sounds fantastic Daddy" Lizzie said grabbing Mycroft's hand and tugged him to the car. Greg's heart swelled at how well the kids were taking to Mycroft and his partner seemed only to be slightly uncomfortable.

Lunch had gone better than Greg expected. Daniel and My had talked about how Dan wanted to be a Detective for Scotland Yard after finishing school. Lizzie animatedly talked about dance and Mycroft told her about some of the ballets he had attended in the past. Thomas and Mycroft got along famously. They debated everything from politics and philosophy to literature and history. Greg was surprised and pleased by this. He always knew his second born was smart but he never suspected his son had the intelligence that could rival a Holmes.

After lunch they spent the day at a nearby museum, where Mycroft acted as their personal guide, giving a brief history of each exhibit.

By the end of the day Mycroft had become enthralled by Greg's children. They were intelligent, kind, and possessed all the qualities that had attracted the politician to Greg.

Lizzie had successfully wrapped Mycroft around her finger without him noticing, to the point he had started to call her Angel.

They had pulled up to the house and Amanda had opened the front door. They got out of the car and each of the kids said their goodbye, giving Greg a hug and the boys shaking Mycroft's hand.

Lizzie was the last to hug her father.

"Will you be at my recital next week Daddy?" she asked looking up at Greg her green eyes pleading.

"I will try my hardest Princess." Greg said, not wanting to get her hopes up.

"What about you Mycroft? I want you to be there as well." She said turning the pleading gaze on the redhead.

He had planned on saying no, but when those wide emerald eyes fell on him, his resolve crumbled.

"Anything for you Angel." he sighed, accepting her hug.

Daniel and Thomas snickered at how fast their little sister had charmed Mycroft. Greg smiled softly, until he looked over at the door and saw Amanda fuming.

"Alright kids, it's time for you to get inside" Greg said.

The kids walked back to the house; when they were safely inside Greg and Mycroft got back in the car and went to Mycroft's flat. They were sitting on the couch reading, music playing softly in the background when Greg put down his book and snuggled into Mycroft. The redhead wrapped his arm around his partner without looking up from his book.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Greg asked, laying his head on Mycroft's shoulder. Mycroft hummed his acknowledgement, and rubbed his hand up and down Greg's arm.

"It was right after I arrested Sherlock for crashing a crime scene for the third time. You had kidnapped me and offered to pay me to help Sherlock." The detective continued.

"You helped him, though you turned down the money. But Gregory dear, that wasn't the first time we met." Mycroft replied and put his bookmark in place, knowing he wasn't going to get anymore reading done.

"What?" Greg brought his head up to look Mycroft in the eyes. Mycroft closed his book and looked back at Greg.

"If I had met you before then, I'm sure I would've remembered. You're a very memorable person." Greg said.

"Well I assure you, we had met before I had requested that meeting with you."

"Then tell me the story." Greg turned on the couch to where he was looking at Mycroft, his expression expectant.

Mycroft took a deep breath, he wasn't sure how Greg would react to knowing the truth; but Mycroft was past the point of return and decided to act upon Rosa's urgings to tell the truth.

"It was at the end of my second year at Oxford…."

**xXx**

**Mwahahaha, now you have to wait a week for the next chapter. (I'm behind on my writing and that's why I'm spreading this sequence out).**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: After 5 reviews begging for the next chapter, I decided to be merciful. Here it is the flashback.**

**x Oxford,England June 1991 x**

Mycroft walked, a bit sullenly, arm in arm with Rosamund. Rosa had a spring in her step, the term was over and she had gotten Mycroft to get out of his dorm room. She had shown up at his door that evening and pestered him to go out with her. Rosa had not relented, following him around his dorm room and pleading annoyingly so that Mycroft finally caved to make her stop.

They quickly arrived at a pub not far from campus. Rosa steered Mycroft through the crowd to the bar. She ordered them a couple of beers and leaned back on the counter looking at Mycroft.

"Oh don't be such a sour puss Mikey; we're here to have fun!"

Their drinks were set down next to Rosa's arm. Mycroft picked one up and took a sip.

"I was perfectly content to stay in my room."

"Well too bad. We're out now and finals are over. We should celebrate! And that starts with getting drunk."

Mycroft smiled and shook his head, but took a sip of his beer anyway. The pub was starting to fill up so Rosa grabbed Mycroft's arm and pulled him out to the patio.

Once outside, Rosa spotted a stage that had one of the employees strategically placing water bottles amongst the instruments.

"Oh Mikey, they have a band playing here tonight! We should get a table near the front!"

Mycroft sighed and saw two women vacating a table to the left of the stage. "C'mon." He pulled Rosa along, maneuvering the crowd with ease. He reached the table and set his drink down just as a couple approached it from the other direction. Mycroft shot the couple a winning smile, making the man scowl.

Rosa grinned and set her drink down next to Mycroft's. The other couple disappeared back into the crowd. Rosa looked at Mycroft sideways and the two burst out laughing. Part of the reason Rosa loved having Mycroft as her best friend was that he could always get people to do what he wanted with a few words and a smile.

"Still resentful that I made you come out?"

"Yes" Mycroft replied with a straight face.

Rosa stuck her tongue out at him, knowing Mycroft didn't mean it.

They stood there drinking in silence, comfortable not making conversation. About ten minutes later people started filtering out onto the patio. A man walked out on stage to the center microphone.

"Alright guys and gals are you ready to rock" The crowd roared their answer. "I'm sorry I didn't quite hear that, I said are you ready to ROCK?" The crowd roared even louder this time. "Well wait no longer; here they are THE WAYWARD SONS!"

The announcer backed off the stage as the band walked on and picked up their instruments. The last person to walk on stage made Mycroft's breath catch in his throat.

The man wasn't tall, but neither was he short; his tan muscles popped out of his fitted black t-shirt, leather trousers hugging his legs in all the right places, framing his tight ass. His brown hair was sticking up all over the place, like he had just gone a few rounds and couldn't be bothered to fix it.

He strolled over to the microphone and placed the beer in his hand down next to the stand. The band started playing as he straightened up and grabbed the microphone, bobbing his head along.

Mycroft swallowed hard and stood up straight. As the man started to sing, Mycroft's eyes followed his movements across the stage. Mycroft couldn't take his eyes off the man as he bounced around. The song ended and they started another one. Mycroft's eyes were still glued to the lead singer and he was so mesmerized Mycroft was bouncing on the balls of his feet in time with the music.

Rosa happened to look over at Mycroft and burst out laughing. Mycroft barely registered his best friend laughing at him.

The song ended and the lead singer addressed the crowd.

"You all having a good time?" The crowd cheered, Mycroft included, causing Rosa to stifle another fit of laughter. "Well my name's Greg and we are the Wayward Sons. This next song might sound a bit familiar. If you know it I want you all to sing along."

As Greg had been talking, he picked up a guitar and slung the strap over his head. The drummer started the song off and the rest of the band soon joined in. Rosa squealed and gripped Mycroft's arm when she recognized it as _I Fought the Law. _She giggled as she started to bounce around and dance, taking Mycroft with her. Mycroft sighed and went with it, bouncing around less than Rosa but he sang along with the rest of the crowd.

The song ended and Rosa stopped bouncing around, taking a sip of her drink. Mycroft drank some of his own beer; a small smile crept on his face when Rosa shot him a smile.

Mycroft continued to watch Greg with rapt attention, not quite sure what it was about this man that was so mesmerizing, _besides him looking like sex on legs._

It was about 4 songs later that had Mycroft swear he was dreaming.

The band was pausing in between songs to tune their instruments and rehydrate. Greg was busy chugging a bottle of water, when he happened to look Mycroft's way. Their eyes locked and it made Mycroft's heart skip a beat. Greg lowered his water and leaned over to the guitarist and whispered something in his ear, eyes still locked on Mycroft.

The guitarist quickly relayed whatever Greg had said to the rest of the band, while the brunette finished off his water, his gaze never wavering from Mycroft. Greg put his guitar back on and put the empty water bottle next to the microphone stand.

He stood up, eyes still on Mycroft, and spoke to the crowd.

"Alright everyone, we're going to shake things up. This next song everyone should know."

Greg started strumming on his guitar, the rest of the band soon joining in. Mycroft knew what song it was and gripped the edge of the table, his breath caught in his throat.

_"I've just seen a face, I can't forget the time or place, that we'd just met, he's just the boy for me and I want all the world to see we've met. Mmm-mmm-mmm-m'mmm-mmm"_

Greg still hadn't taken his gaze off of Mycroft and was singing directly to him.

_"Had it been another day I might have looked the other way, but I had never been aware and as it is I dream of him tonight. Di-di-di-di'd'di"_

Mycroft couldn't believe what was happening. It was very unreal. His breathing had turned shallow, and he was vaguely aware of Rosa rubbing his upper arm and back, a look on her face between worry and excitement.

_"Falling, yes I am falling, and he keeps calling me back again. I have never known the likes of this, I've been alone, and I have missed things and kept out of sight, but other boys were never quite like this. Mmm-mmm-mmm-m'mmm-mmm"_

By this time other people in the crowd had followed Greg's line of sight and were wondering what exactly was happening between the singer and man in the crowd who looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"_Falling, yes I am falling, and he keeps calling me back again."_

Greg winked at Mycroft and started the guitar solo, rocking back and forth on his heels. Mycroft started to get a bit of control on his breathing, but was still gripping the table tightly as if it were keeping him from flying away.

"_Falling, yes I am falling, and he keeps calling me back again. Falling, yes I am falling, and he keeps calling me back again. Falling, yes he is falling, and he keeps calling me back again."_

The song ended and Greg stood there looking at Mycroft, taking a couple of deep breaths. The guitarist looked at Greg then stepped up to his own microphone.

"Alright everyone, we're going to take a break. But don't despair; we'll be back before you know it."

Once his band mate was done talking, Greg quickly took off his guitar, setting it in its stand and jumped down from the front of the stage.

"Oh my god, My I think he's coming over to talk to you" Rosa said, awe and excitement in her voice.

Mycroft looked over at his best friend, a bit of panic in his eyes. Rosa held back a laugh and made a subtle hand motion for Mycroft to take a deep breath. Mycroft did as his friend nonverbally asked and felt his heart rate slow down from it's racing speed.

Mycroft turned back to look at the stage just as Greg approached their table. Mycroft barely suppressed a whimper; _God this man is even more gorgeous up close_. Greg smiled and propped himself up on the table with his elbow, holding out his other hand to Mycroft.

"Hi, my name is Greg. I was wondering what yours was handsome."

Mycroft squeaked when he opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out, he just stood there staring at Greg in shock.

Rosa eyes flicked between Greg and Mycroft, pursing her lips to hold back her laughter. When it became clear Mycroft was too shocked to answer, she nudged him with her elbow.

"Oh Mikey, will you close your mouth. You look like a fish out of water."

Mycroft closed his mouth and shook Greg's hand. Greg smiled and Mycroft felt like he was going to faint.

"So it's Mikey, you mind if I call you Mike?"

Mycroft shook his head. Greg's smile widened, causing Mycroft to blush and avert his gaze. He realized he was still shaking Greg's hand slowly and quickly released it.

Greg chuckled. "So gorgeous, how do you like the show so far?"

Mycroft cleared his throat and finally broke out of his shocked state.

"I like your music well enough. It's not what I normally listen to but it's not bad."

"What do you normally listen to?"

"Classical mostly."

"Favorite composer?"

"Schubert"

"Hmm, he likes the Austrian" Greg said under his breath. "I do admit I like the complexities of his symphonies but the subtly is somewhat hard to portray on guitar."

Mycroft's eyes widened a bit in awe. This man was perfect. Mycroft was practically drooling, but thankfully Greg didn't see because he was signaling a waitress for a round of drinks. Rosa was watching the exchange trying to contain her giggles. She had never seen Mycroft so caught off guard. He was _so _going to hear about this later.

Rosa leaned over to Mycroft and whispered in his ear. "Mikey dear you're drooling."

Mycroft's hand flew to his mouth but felt nothing. He shot Rosa a scathing look, which sent her into a fit of giggles. Mycroft let out a dramatic sigh, which made Rosa laugh even harder. His attention was drawn away from his best friend when Greg coughed.

"I am so rude. This is my best friend Rosamund."

"You can call me Rosa." Rosa stopped giggling and shook Greg's hand. "And Mikey, I wish your rudeness was something I wasn't used to." She said dramatically.

"Oh quit being such a drama queen Rosa."

"You wound me Mikey!" She held both her hands over her heart and her expression was that of faux dismay.

Mycroft looked over at Rosa with an expression that asked if she was being serious. A smile crept on Rosa's face and that sent them both into a fit of laughter, Greg chuckling softly as well. Greg had watched the whole exchange with amusement and couldn't help but be pulled into their laughter.

The waitress came over and set down their drinks, which calmed the three down.

Greg lifted his glass to Mycroft and Rosa. "Cheers" They followed suit and all took a drink.

Rosa placed her glass back on the table. "So Greg, I've been wondering where your band came up with its name."

Greg put his own glass down. "It's from the title of a song by this American band called Kansas. We always play it, so you'll hear it later."

"Cool"

"So what do you two do?"

"I'm studying English Literature at Oxford."

Greg nodded and looked and Mycroft. "And you?"

"I'm a student at Oxford as well."

"What's your field of study?"

"Political Science"

"So you plan on taking over the government?"

Mycroft blushed and looked over at Rosa who gave him a smug smirk. He shot her a scowl, and then looked back at Greg.

"Well Greg what do you do, besides play in a band?"

"How do you know this isn't what I do all the time?" Mycroft opened his mouth to apologize, looking embarrassed, but Greg started laughing and waved his hand.

"I'm kidding, the band is only touring since I'm on summer holiday. I'm studying Criminology to be a detective at Scotland Yard."

"What division?"

"Homicide"

"Planning on ridding the world of murderers?"

Greg smiled and winked at Mycroft, "That's the plan."

"You don't meet many aspiring detectives in a rock band" Rosa piped up. Greg's smile fell a bit at Rosa's comment, and it wasn't lost on Mycroft.

"Yeah well you're one to talk, Miss Stage School reject."

"But if I had gotten into Stage School, I wouldn't have met your adorable face" Rosa said cutely, pinching Mycroft's cheeks. Mycroft's comment hit a nerve, but she didn't let it show because she knew he didn't mean it.

Greg smiled gratefully at Mycroft's deflection. "I'm wondering, how _did_ you two meet?"

"We met last year in an introduction literature course. We had to discuss in groups The Canterbury Tales. Mikey was sitting to the side looking bored and not participating. I called him out on it, saying he had nothing to say because he didn't do the reading. This smug bastard just grinned and made me eat my words by giving an in-depth analysis that had everyone including the professor surprised. After that I kept bugging him and he grudgingly accepted my friendship."

"And you had a HUGE crush on me."

"Sod off, I didn't know you batted for the other team."

Mycroft choked on his drink. Once he got his breath back he shot Rosa a look that said _Can you not!_

Rosa stuck her tongue out at Mycroft. Greg watched the exchange with amusement.

"Anyway, when Mikey came out to me, I got over my little crush and we've been the best of friends ever since."

Greg smiled and opened his mouth to say something, when the drummer came up behind Greg and smacked him upside the head.

"OI! Lestrade quit your flirting and get back on stage."

"Hey! I could arrest you for assault Liam."

"Quit you're huffing; you're not a detective yet. You've had 20 minutes and we're here to get paid."

"Fine I'll be there in a bit."

Liam rolled his eyes and walked back to the stage. Greg sighed, his expression reluctant.

"Well duty calls. I hope to see you after the show." Greg winked at Mycroft before walking back to the stage.

**xXx**

**Don't worry that's not the end of it. I just had to split the flashback in two because it is soooooooooooo long.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Here's the second half of the flashback.**

**xOxford, England June 1991x**

Greg played the rest of the second set, looking Mycroft's way often and sending him a cheeky wink every now and then. Mycroft had bounced around a bit more with the music, Rosa giving him a smug smirk every time he looked her way.

"Alright boys and girls this is our last song. You all have been great." Greg slid his guitar on for the last time, and the guitarist took his off and walked over to an electric keyboard. Greg looked at his bandmates to see if they were ready and nodded.

_"Carry on My Wayward Son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more."_

The band started playing. Mycroft thought he recognized the song and bobbed his head along with the music. Greg looked over and smiled. Mycroft returned the smile, watching with awe as Greg's fingers fly over the strings.

Greg had caught the look of awe Mycroft had and strutted around the stage only drifting back to the microphone when he had to sing. Greg was thoroughly showing off for Mycroft and he was enjoying it.

By the third chorus the crowd was singing along and rocking out. Greg got really into playing the guitar solos, loosing himself in the music. As the song came to a close, he dropped to his knees and leaned back, strumming the last few notes with all his might.

The song was over and the crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Mycroft was not immune to the awe and joined in cheering and whistling. Greg sat on his heels, his chest heaving as he regained his breath. Seeing Mycroft, Greg chuckled and stood up. He took his guitar off and bowed a few times with the rest of the band.

The applause died down and people started to filter out while the band packed up their instruments. Mycroft just stood at the table with Rosa. When it was apparent that My wasn't going to move, she shoved him towards the stage. "Go on. He obviously likes you. Standing here like an idiot isn't going to help that."

"You sure?" Mycroft's expression conveyed his hope but desire not to abandon his best friend.

"Yeah. I'll be fine, that bartender over there has been making googly eyes with me all night. I want to find out if the rest of him is as interesting as his ass."

"Alright" Mycroft smiled gratefully and walked over to the front of the stage. He stood there for a few moments awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Greg turned and bent down to grab his foot pedals when he caught sight of Mycroft. Greg smiled.

"Hey" Mycroft said softly.

"Hey, I'll be right with you" Greg said picking up his foot pedals and shoved them in their case. He turned to his bandmates. "You guys good without me?"

Liam rolled his eyes and continued to break down his drum kit. The guitarist looked at Mycroft, who was blushing and fidgeting with his shirt again, and chuckled. "Yeah, go on. We got this."

"Thanks" Greg jumped down right next to Mycroft. "So care to get a drink with me?" Greg asked shoving his hands in his back pockets and rocked on his heels.

"Sure" Mycroft said quietly. Greg smiled and started walking to the inside of the pub. Mycroft followed shoving his hands in his pockets. Greg still had his hands in his back pockets, which drew Mycroft's eyes to the brunette's leather clad ass. Greg flicked his eyes over his shoulder to make sure the taller man was following and saw him staring at his ass. Just to mess with Mycroft, Greg wiggled it a little as he moved to a vacant booth.

Mycroft took a deep breath and slid into the booth. Greg signaled a waitress and slid in across from Mycroft.

"So Mike, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Nothing really"

"Oh come on nobody does nothing."

"Well, I do like to read."

"Yeah? What's your favorite book?"

"1984 by George Orwell."

"Good book, although I prefer Orwell's Animal Farm; But to each his own. What else do you like to do?"

"Umm, I'm classically trained on the piano, I can speak 10 languages, I like to play chess, and I paint."

Greg sat back looking impressed by the younger man. He opened his mouth but the waitress came over and set down a couple of beers in front of them.

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked leering at Greg.

"Yeah can I get a burger and chips, I'm famished" Greg answered still looking at Mycroft, "Mike, do you want anything?"

Mycroft looked up at the waitress and smirked at the slight pout she had because Greg was paying attention to him.

"I'll have a salad, if you have it. If not, a burger as well."

When Greg still wouldn't look at her, she huffed. "I'll be back with your food."

Greg picked up a pen that had been on the table and started doodling on a napkin.

"So you paint. What's your favorite style? Please don't say postmodern."

Mycroft chuckled. "No, I can't stand that crap." Greg let out a relieved sigh, and Mycroft chuckled again. "I like impressionism, however, stylistically I paint post-impressionist."

"So you like Degas, Pissarro, Monet, and Renoir, but paint like Van Gogh, Rousseau, and Cézanne."

"Yeah, although Cézanne is considered both impressionist and post-impressionist."

"True but it all depends on what time period the painting you're talking about comes from. He was only part of the impressionist movement from 1870-1878" Greg argued, jabbing the pen in the air towards Mycroft to accentuate his point. It was My's turn to sit back, impressed that Greg knew so much about art. Greg went back to drawing on the napkin.

The waitress came back with their food and set two burgers down in front of them. Greg moved the napkin he had been drawing on to the side. The waitress still trying to get Greg's attention nodded to the napkin, "So what you drawing there?"

"Nothing; can I get some ketchup."

"Sure" she huffed and stormed off.

Mycroft couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. Greg looked at the laughing redhead confused.

"What?"

Mycroft waved his hand and sighed with a smile. "Nothing."

Greg raised an eyebrow at Mycroft, but let it slide, opting to dig in to his burger.

Curious, Mycroft picked up the napkin. He stared at it blankly for a bit. Greg saw Mycroft looking at the napkin and swallowed the bite of burger he had been chewing.

"It's not that good, I know. I'm a rubbish artist."

Mycroft shook his head. "No it's quite good. Did you mean to write in Circular Gallifreyan?"

Greg blushed. "You can read Circular Gallifreyan?"

Mycroft nodded and bit his lip as he stared at the napkin that said _Your Sexy _in a stylized Circular Gallifreyan.

A different waitress dropped off a bottle of ketchup, but the two didn't notice. Mycroft finally put the napkin down and started eating.

"So Greg, we've mostly talked about me and what I like to do, but what about you? What is it you like to do?"

Greg grinned and grabbed the ketchup bottle, squirting some on an empty corner of his plate. He picked up a chip and dipped it in the ketchup.

"Let's see other than playing the guitar, I like to read, watch telly and play football" Greg popped the chip into his mouth.

"And you draw."

"And I draw."

"What about family?"

"I'm the oldest of 7. There's the twins: Fred and George, the 15 year old mischievous little shits; the triplets: Lucas, Matthew, and Nathaniel, they're 10 and better behaved than the twins, but they can still stir up trouble. Then there's little Emily, she just turned 5 and is the only girl in the house besides my mum."

"What do your parents do?"

"My mother's a nurse and my father's a professor of Art History at Cambridge."

"Ahhh, thus your extensive knowledge of Cézanne."

Greg nodded. "What about you, any siblings? What do your parents do?"

Mycroft took a drink of his beer before answering. Greg chuckled.

"Umm, you've got a little..." he said making vague motions to his upper lip. Mycroft looked at him confused.

Greg sighed, a smile still on his face. He leaned across the booth and lifted his hand to Mycroft's face wiping some foam off of Mycroft's upper lip with his thumb.

Greg's expression softened and his thumb stroked Mycroft's lips. A shiver ran down Mycroft's spin, his eyes wide and hopeful.

Greg used the knuckles under Mycroft's chin to pull the redhead's face closer. Their lips were centimeters apart when Mycroft's phone rang.

Mycroft cursed under his breath, but answered anyway.

"Hello…Shit! I'll find him." Mycroft hung up and pulled some money out of his pocket and set it on the table. Greg looked at Mycroft, worry crossing his face.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go."

Mycroft left before Greg could say anything. He was cursing Sherlock for running away tonight of all nights.

_That little shit knows how to ruin my life._

Mycroft ran back to his dorm room to pick up his car keys. He got in the door and turned the lights on to see Sherlock curled up asleep on his couch. Mycroft glared at his little brother from across the room, but his expression softened because the little shit was adorable when he was asleep.

He walked over to the couch and sat on the edge, lightly shaking Sherlock awake. Sherlock stretched and yawned.

"Hey My" Sherlock said sleepily.

"Hey Sherly, what are you doing here?"

"Mrs. Anders made me go outside while I was in the middle of an experiment."

"So you ran away?"

"Yes, she yelled at me My." Sherlock said timidly. Even though he didn't have to worry about their father's wrath anymore, Sherlock still feared a beating whenever he got caught with a messy experiment.

"What was this experiment about Sherly?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.

"I made my own acid out of cleaning supplies and I wanted to test it on certain fabrics." Sherlock replied excitedly, he loved sharing his experiments with his older brother.

"And what fabrics did you use?" Mycroft was pretty sure he knew what the answer was, but wanted his little brother to confirm it.

"A cashmere jumper and a pair of jeans."

"Who was the owner of these clothing items?"

Sherlock averted his gaze and mumbled something under his breath.

"I'm sorry I can't hear you, you're going to have to speak up Sherly."

"They were Mrs. Anders."

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes, massaging his temples.

"Sherly, you can't go destroying other people's property for the sake of an experiment, especially without their expressed permission."

"But My – "

"No buts. Now I'm going to take you back to the manor and you're going to apologize to Mrs. Anders."

Two and a half hours later and forcing his little brother to apologize to the housekeeper, which took the longest, Mycroft was walking back into the pub hoping Greg was still there.

Mycroft saw Rosa at the bar, who waved him over once she spotted him. Mycroft walked over, while looking around to see if he could find Greg.

"Where did you go My?"

"Sherlock decided to run away. Luckily the place he ran to was my dorm room, but I still had to drive him home." Mycroft was still looking around the bar, but didn't see Greg anywhere. Rosa saw the hope in her best friend's eyes die.

"He left about 10 minutes ago, asked me to give you this." She pulled out a napkin and handed it to Mycroft. "As soon as you left that waitress descended on him like a ravenous wolf on a wounded deer, but he still ignored her. You must have left quite the impression."

Mycroft looked at the napkin and smiled. It was the same one Greg had drawn on earlier, with an addition – his number.

"So you ready to go or…" Mycroft asked looking pointedly at the bartender.

"Yeah c'mon" Rosa hopped off the bar stool and walked out with Mycroft. Mycroft pocketed the napkin.

**xXx End Flashback xXx**

Greg looked at Mycroft, shocked.

"Gregory" Mycroft looked at his partner, worried.

"That was you." Greg stated with wonder. The mystery that had been nagging him all this time was finally solved."I looked for you for years, but I couldn't find you. You had my number, why didn't you call?"

"I was too scared that it was all just a fluke and once you got to know me more, you'd change your mind."

Greg kissed Mycroft pouring all the love he felt for the man into it.

"It wasn't a fluke. I love you now and I'm sure I would have loved you then."

Mycroft smiled and Greg kissed him again.

The kiss was sweet and full of love, and Mycroft was eternally grateful this was Greg's reaction. He had been so scared that when Greg had found out about this he'd leave him again. He returned the kiss silently thanking his best friend for urging him to tell the truth.

Greg pulled away a while later slightly out of breath. He rested his forehead against Mycroft's and looked into his warm blue eyes, losing himself.

"Marry me My." Greg breathed out, still lost in the blue pools of emotion.

"What?" Mycroft asked confused, hope shining in his eyes that he had heard right.

"Mycroft Holmes will you marry me?" Greg asked, his hand coming up to cup Mycroft's face. He had never been surer about anything in his life and that confidence showed in his eyes, causing Mycroft's breath to catch.

"Well? My?" Greg asked a bit worried when Mycroft didn't answer.

"Yes" Mycroft breathed out.

"Yes?" Greg asked excitement replacing his worry.

"Yes" Mycroft said determinedly with a smile. Greg's face split into a wide smile and kissed Mycroft deeply. It was the answer he had been hoping for and it was better because he finally knew Mycroft was the man who stole his heart when he was young.


End file.
